A Daydream Detour
by Gidgit2u
Summary: Set in Hermione's sixth year, this story begins directly following the exchange between Hermione and Fred in WWW, chapter six of HBP: "You know," said Hermione, looking up at Harry, "that really is extraordinary magic!" "For that, Hermione," said a voice behind them, "You can have one for free." This story explores the dynamics at play between Hermione, Fred and George.
1. Chapter 1

**A Daydream Detour**

 **Summary** :

Set in Hermione's sixth year, this began as a one shot that grew into a story. It's set directly following this exchange between Hermione and Fred in WWW in chapter six of HBP:

"You know," said Hermione, looking up at Harry, "that really is extraordinary magic!"

"For that, Hermione," said a voice behind them, "You can have one for free."

Enjoy

(Pairings: HG/FW/GW).

 **Disclaimer** :

The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and Scholastic. All canon characters, plots, quotes and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

 **Rating warning** :

Rated M for scenes of a potentially explicit sexual nature

* * *

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **Chapter 1**

Hermione looked around the busy shop - a bit flustered and taken aback at how much she wanted to buy one of the 'Patented Daydream Charms'. She knew if she did, however; that both Ron and Harry would take the piss if they found out, relentlessly teasing her for days. Something she was keen to avoid.

Glancing around surreptitiously, she saw neither of the boys, nor any of the red-headed family anywhere near or paying any attention to her, so, acting on her desires and the rare unobserved moment, she quickly took a box up to the front where Fred was manning the till after he'd finished giving Harry a tour of the shop.

"Well _hello_ there Granger, fancy seeing _you_ again so soon." Fred drawled charmingly, looking down at her purchase. "I'm delighted you've decided to try this product out - you won't be disappointed," He flashed her a grin as he rang her up, adding another box to the pile. "Here's the free one I promised, in thanks for your high praise earlier. The total for the first charm, my lovely, is 1 galleon, 14 sickles."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Fred's flirting, handing over the money. The twins were always in high spirits regardless of whom they were speaking to, and as such she never let herself get worked up or drawn in by their teasing or flirtatious comments. No matter how attractive they were, she just couldn't take their attentions seriously.

"My my, is prefect _Granger_ buying one of our products? Has she finally been ensnared in our web of mischief and mayhem? Be still my heart Fred – this may just be, one of the _happiest_ days of my life." said George dramatically, clasping a hand to his chest as he sidled up beside her.

"Oh hush, you," She grinned at George's enthusiasm and humour, just as Fred leaned across the counter, moving his head close to hers. George followed his twin's lead, leaning his head down towards hers as well.

Fred lowered his voice conspiratorially and murmured in her ear, almost brushing her lobe with his lips, "You know, _Hermione_ …We don't do this for just anyone, but, seeing as it's for you…"

"And that we would rather retain you as a happy customer, than see you be uncomfortable or teased mercilessly by those two prats you call friends," George continued in similar gravely tones in her other ear, his nearness almost, if not closer, than Fred. She lifted an eyebrow when he gave a nod towards the area Harry and Ron were standing towards the rear of the shop.

"We can transfigure these boxes to look like some benign swotty product from another store you frequent instead, using bland beige wrapping so Harry and Ron are none the wiser. Would that be...preferable?" Fred finished, pulling away to look at her face, to gauge her reaction – she assumed – to their offer of discretion.

"That would be brilliant! Thank you!" Hermione replied, slightly breather than she meant to. Their proximity and the timber of their voices had sent unexpected tingles down her spine. She was thrilled and a little touched that they were offering to make things easier on her; not exploit her possible discomfort for their amusement. Sometimes the twins surprised her with their insight, and how they could make her feel unique or appreciated at random moments. At others, their behaviour infuriated her to the point her hair would appear to stand on end with the embodied friction of her rage.

"Here you are Ms. Granger, one bland beige what-not. We do hope this meets your expectations, and would delight in hearing your review of our product." Fred waggled his eyebrows at her as he handed her the wrapped package, causing her to chuckle, her cheeks heating slightly.

"Always an experience, Fred, George." She nodded her head at them, "This time, I must say an enjoyable one. Thank you for your… kindness. I'll let you know what I think once I've used it. It _is_ quite an extraordinary piece of magic… I'm eager to try it out."

The twins exchanged a look, one she'd never previously seen on their faces; before drawing back around and near her once more.

"A caution, if we may..." George began, halting her as she began to pull away from them. Once again bringing his head closer to hers as he positioned his body in a seemingly nonchalant yet surprisingly protective fashion.

"We advertise that use of these charms is virtually undetectable, so that those who wish to can use them in class or detentions." Fred continued. "But, knowing you, we don't see that happening. You would _hate_ to waste the chance of learning something." They all grinned at the truth of that statement.

"So we suggest maybe the prefects' bathroom for your first foray – somewhere private and relaxing. Wouldn't want you to suffer any possible ill effects or…. potential embarrassment, depending on how, let's just say – descriptively detailed – your daydream is. Someplace you can be comfortable..." George trailed off, giving her a knowing smile as if he could imagine how thoroughly her brain would rise to the task.

"….While you figure out how your brain prefers to manifest your daydreams," Fred finished.

Hermione nodded, looking a bit flummoxed at their unsolicited willingness to assist in reducing her risk of embarrassment, and in their apparent appreciation for her brain. Not everyone was so complimentary – in fact unless she was helping someone, most just harped on her about her attention to detail and thorough mind rather than praise or encourage it except for their own benefit. Considering her and the twins history of infuriating each other – her with her rules, them with their aversion to them – she was touched that they seemed to be watching out for her; albeit while supporting her purchase of their wares. Still….

"Erm…Thank you…that is, really quite... insightful…and surprisingly thoughtful." She caught sight of the others, who seemed to be wrapping up their window shopping. "Oh, got to run… I'll speak with you soon."

With that, she waved and headed towards where Harry, Ginny and Ron were finishing up pursuing the shelves.

"What was that about?" Whispered Ginny, noting her friend's slightly pink cheeks and bright eyes.

"Oh, just talking with the twins about some of the charm layering they've used for some of their product developments. It's actually kind of brilliant." Hermione waved off her conversation with the twins, minimizing the importance – at least she attempted to. Ginny didn't seem to buy it, if that glint in her eye was any indication.

"Ok... If you say so," Ginny smirked at her friend, though held her tongue, in case the two boys in front listened in on their conversation. "You'll break to me eventually..." She whispered sweetly before the four Gryffindors made their way out of the store to meet up with the Weasley parents.

Hermione glanced back in the direction of the till before she exited, and felt a jolt of surprised delight at realizing both twins were in the same spot she'd left them, their eyes fixed upon her, watching her leave. Excitement bubbled in her stomach as both of them caught her eye and winked, before turning away to help other customers.

' _Curious_ ,' she thought to herself, before joining the others to apparate home to the Burrow.

* * *

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

The next week flew by, and Hermione found that the WWW package was burning a hole through her trunk. Her fingers itched to use it, if only because of the twins' peculiar actions earlier in the shop. Their package camouflage had worked like a charm – Ron and Harry had taken one look at it and rolled their eyes.

" _Another_ book, Hermione? It's not healthy, all this reading – no relaxing. It's like you're building your _own_ library at Hogwarts." Harry shook his head, looking like he wanted nothing to do with this conversation.

"Ho Ho," Hermione mumbled, a secret grin dancing over her lips at the thought of what Ron would say if he knew the true identity of the package he was sneering at.

Upon arriving at Hogwarts, once the start of terms frantic pace had slowed, Hermione lasted only days after her birthday before she excused herself from the common room where she, Ron and Harry were studying and made her way to the prefects' washroom.

Remembering the twins' precautions about her being in a private, comfortable area; Hermione cast a locking charm on the door and a silencing charm on the room so as not to be bothered or interrupted while bathing. She had made the mistake last year of not locking the door - much to her and the male sixth-year Ravenclaw prefect's embarrassment - and she'd walked by enough times when others hadn't silenced the room to know that even a slight whisper could be heard outside these walls.

Stripping down, she folded her clothes neatly, placing them beside her book sack on the stone ledge to the right of the door. She took the bland package out of her book sack and opened it. Inside was a single tiny tablet, pink in colour, wrapped in foil with a decorative swirled etch, scrolled around the edging. There was also a printed instruction sheet inside the package, folded neatly in half with the WWW logo on one side.

Making her way towards the massive sunken tub – instruction sheet and product in hand – Hermione flicked her wand to turn on her favourite taps. She loved the taps that poured liquids smelling of sandlewood and vanilla, and the one that created different sized bubbles. There was also a tap that infused a serum into the water that left her skin feeling silky smooth and rejuvenated. As she waited for the tub to fill, she sat down on the edge and read the instructions.

 _ **"Patented Daydream Charm"**_

 _For those who wish to dwell in dreams, we present to you our latest and greatest "Patented Daydream Charm."_

 _One tablet, taken with a full glass of water, will allow you to escape into a blissful surrender for 30 minutes. The boxes cover themes are for those whose imagination need a bit of suggestive prodding, however, ultimately you - our wonderful customer - are in control, and you influence where you wish your subconscious to lead you. At the end of the 30 minutes, you will feel your senses gently awaken to the world around you, with those near none the wiser as to your wandering mind and thoughts.*_

 _So please sit back, relax and enjoy your daily reprieve._

Hermione, curious as to what the asterix referred to, let her eyes roam over the instruction sheet for the errant text, not wanting to continue reading until she'd found it. She _always_ read the fine print first – that was where most of the important information was often hidden.

She finally found it, written in extremely tiny lettering, near the bottom – almost unseen due to the words wrapping around the letters of the WWW logo – easy to miss unless one was purposely looking for them. Reading the footnote, she let out a surprised laugh at their cheek. * _Unless, of course, you dream of something… particularly invigorating… then, you may have some pesky identifiers to relieve – hopefully with discretion and decorum! We are running an upstanding business after all._

Smiling broadly, Hermione continued reading the remainder of the instruction notice.

 _ **Our Legally Required Warning:**_

 _ **Because apparently some users are quite thick headed!**_

 _Due to the potentially addictive nature of the ingredients that can arise from excessive use, a delay charm is activated once the tablet is ingested. If you are to consume another "Patented Daydream Charm" before 36 hours have passed, the product will not work and will result in immediate and violent vomiting, the purpose of which to ensure none of the product is absorbed. You have been warned, therefore, no refunds for acts of ignorance, stupidity or greed_.

~ Fred and George Wealsey, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes – Purveyors of Ingenious Magical Products~

Hermione sighed, half-heartedly rolling her eyes at the last paragraph in exasperation and appreciation - not only were the twins smart enough to acknowledge their product's limitations and put in powerful, creative and effective fail safes, she also didn't know anyone who could imply or direct thinly veiled insults at their customers and have them repeatedly return – though it was apparent by the twin's flourishing business they could and did - wracking in the galleons.

The tub now full, she accio'd some towels from the upper shelves along the far wall – she'd discovered the house elves kept all the softest towels hidden there for some reason – and transfigured a pen into a water glass. Quickly filling it with cold water, she drank the whole glass along with the tablet.

Lowering herself into the tub, she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to drift.

* * *

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

It was a subtle pull into her subconscious, her senses seeming to project internally rather than externally; but she couldn't put her finger on what, if at all, had changed. So subtle was the shift into the product's grip that Hermione remained convinced it hadn't worked.

Slightly disappointed, she began scooping bubbled water towards her, running it up and down her arms, the serum in the water caressing and softening her skin. The warmth of the water was already relaxing her muscles, releasing them from the constant stress and typical tightness she carried around each day.

' _At least I'll get a nice relaxing bath out of this. Must be a defective batch. I'll have to let the twins know._ ' Her mind replayed the look she'd received from Fred and George as she'd left their shop and a moan escaped her mouth. It had been a look of anticipation; of a predator to its prey. It was a look that spoke of hunger. She wanted that look again, wanted to find out what it meant.

Suddenly, with a slight scrape that shattered the quiet as effectively as a BANG, the door behind her opened into the room. Startled, Hermione whipped around, blushing in her attempt to hide her exposed chest and body with the numerous bubbles that danced along the surface of the water.

' _I'm quite positive I locked that…_ ,' she thought to herself, her eyes widening as two wizards came into view.

Fred and George Weasley, clad in sinful dark denim trousers and tight muggle t-shirts – sauntered through the door and closed it – locking it thoroughly behind them.

"Oh look Gred, Granger's here! What are the chances?" Said George, looking pleased yet unsurprised to find her in the tub.

' _And why wouldn't he be pleased?_ ' she mused a bit smugly. She was a young, single, fit, and _very naked_ girl in a bathtub. She'd be surprised if he wasn't thrilled at the sight in front of him. ' _Whoa – where did this confidence come from?_ ' she was slightly taken aback at her own thoughts; wondering if the heat from the tub had slightly addled her brain, reducing her typical anxieties.

"Looks like it's our lucky day, Forge ol' boy." Said Fred cheerily.

"How did you….What are you both... you can't be _in_ here!" Her flustered sputtering ended on a slightly panicked note, even as she tried to keep her eyes from visually devouring the two wizards in front of her.

"Well Hermione, dearest. We never like to… insert ourselves… where we aren't wanted. If you'd prefer, we will take our leave. But…." Said George.

"….We do think you'll want us to join you, we do make everything much more fun. See, Granger, we fancied a swim, and we thought to ourselves," Fred began.

"What better place than the prefect washroom at Hogwarts." George said.

"So we classed ourselves up, and ambled our way on up here. We had hoped, given our last conversation –"

" – That you would be here at the same time, and look! Here you are, how fortuitous…" George beamed.

Now, we know what you're going to say," Fred said, holding up his hand to stall the comments she felt balanced on the tip of her tongue, ready to spew forth.

"You'll say you're naked, we aren't even students let alone _prefects_ ," his voice shuddered a bit with distain at that word, "And that we can't just barge in when another student is bathing." Finished George confidently.

She silently nodded – ' _were they mind readers now_?' Oh goodness, she hoped not – otherwise they'd know she was currently doing her hardest to refrain from pulling them into the water with her – barely listening to their words. Her eyes were overheating at the sight they presented. ' _Oh how I wish I was one of their t-shirts,_ ' she thought, then forced herself to refocus on their words again and not the lips speaking them.

"Well, being the considerate blokes that we are, we brought you some swimwear, as well as our own, in the hopes you'd actually be here. So that we can all be _decent_." Fred rolled his eyes on the word decent, like it repulsed him to even utter such a prim term.

"A very _prefect_ move, wouldn't you say Fred? Hermione, we haven't been swimming in _ages_. Please? Will you let us join you?" George turned beseeching eyes her way.

' _Since when does their begging have ANY effect on me?'_ she thought, flustered beyond belief, and beginning to feel herself letting go of her indignation at being interrupted along with her inhibitions about sharing the bath.

"We'll even turn our backs while you change." George dangled another persuasive carrot.

"Though I dare say we might try and catch a peek in the window," Fred promised with a roguish grin.

"Oh honestly," Hermione exclaimed, reaching a decision, "Just give me the damn suit. You two can sell ice to a person living on an iceberg, you realize that don't you? Now, give it here." She briefly wondered why she wasn't more upset or put out by this situation, but then realized that she trusted them, and was finding that she really enjoyed their company the longer she was in their presence. Plus, her eyes were quite enjoying the sight in front of her, and a little part inside her couldn't wait to see what water did to those two.

As she attempted to dip below the bubbles lining the surface to don the – _'bloody hell, they called this a bathing suit?'_ As she donned the two _scraps_ of fabric that wrapped around her breasts and chest and a _minuscule_ pair of drawstring bottoms, she glanced up and saw two pairs of heated eyes staring back at her through the reflection in the window to the side of the tub.

She was nervous about showing this much skin, especially as she'd never even worn a one piece around the Weasley clan, however, their obvious and appreciative reaction did wonders to bolster her confidence in the matter.

"Ten points to Gryffindor," she heard George murmur.

"Ten, pfft, fill the whole damn hourglass with rubies," Fred replied – both their voices sounding almost awestruck in tone.

Her face flushed and she muttered at them to come into the tub, which in all honesty _was_ the size of a small personal pool. They would be able to swim to their hearts content while she continued her previously relaxing contemplations.

The twins had shucked off their pants and were now in their swim shorts and t-shirts. The two waded down into the tub, and did a couple laps, flicking water at each other and laughing, before heading her way. She noticed the material of their shirts was moulded to their stomachs – outlining and displaying tight quidditch honed chests. She felt her breath hitch, her tongue wanting to taste those ridges and valleys their shirts accentuated.

"You two really don't understand the notion of personal space, do you" she quipped as they moved to sit on either side of her, sandwiching her between them. Her body began to thrum at their enticing nearness. _'What is going on with me? Since when do the twins cause my stomach to go all fluttery, or my fingers to yearn to reach out and touch them?'_ She tensed up her muscles, forcing them to refrain from attempting their desired wanderings.

The twins noticed.

"Why so tense Hermione? It's only been two weeks since school let in! Surely your body hasn't worked itself into knots as of yet?" Fred queried.

"Come here love, these hands have been tying string all afternoon. They need to be worked out a bit. Let me work them out on your muscles." George motioned that she turn, so he could give her a back massage.

Shrugging, realizing she _was_ overly tense and that there would be no other relief for her muscles here in Hogwarts, Hermione complied. She knew how much she loved getting massages during the summer when she was in muggle London, and she hoped this would relax her as much as those did.

She turned, giving George her back. Fred reached down and pulled her legs into his lap. As George started working the muscles at her neck and shoulders, Fred started at the balls of her feet.

She was in heaven. She couldn't help the moans and drawn-out breaths that were escaping her. She knew she must sound horribly wanton, but their hands were making her tense muscles sing. Each twin moved lower and higher respectively on her body - George was now kneading her arms and lower back, Fred her calves.

She was all but squirming as they continued their wonderful relaxation of her body. As she squirmed again, she felt something harden, pressing along her back. She moaned and moved backwards without thinking, feeling a low mumble escape from George's chest, vibrating against her back.

She felt her hair brush the side of her neck as it was moved to her other shoulder; feather light kisses begun trailing down her left side from her ear down lower. Lower… As George kissed and licked his way down to her collarbone, Fred's hands continued to move higher still.

' _This is not like me at all! Why am I allowing this?'_ Hermione thought, her mind muddled as her body lit on fire under their hands.

As George sucked on her earlobe, nipping it gently, Hermione decided she didn't care – this felt amazing, better than anything she'd ever felt or done before – and sod it, for once she wanted to play on the wild side and not be the uptight enforcer left to clean up messes. She'd deal with the fallout later. Right now, she wanted this, and what Hermione wanted, she made happen.

She turned her head so she could fit her lips to George's, their sweet embrace quickly turning into a duet of heat and fiery tongues. His mouth tantalized and conquered, teased and played. She was drowning in the feelings he evoked in her – along with those that Fred was awakening simultaneously. She could feel that distinct hardness behind her fully now, as well as another pressure under her calves as Fred moved his massage higher still.

His fingers were now running along her inner thigh, tantalizingly close to where she wished his fingers would explore. But as close as his fingers would appear to skim, he was frustratingly staying just shy of the border of her swim bottoms. It was enough to drive her uninhabited with need; she felt hot liquid pool between her legs as she whimpered at how Fred and George were able to make her body feel. She broke off from George's mouth, reaching out to caress Fred's stomach muscles through his soaking wet t-shirt.

"Mmmmmmm…" she purred, then demanded imperiously, "Off with these, both of you!" She didn't like that her view was impeded, even if it was by a sexy wet shirt. The twins quickly divested themselves of the sodden material and she was treated to their lean, muscular, _naked_ torsos, covered in a smattering of freckles and light ginger hair that trailed and dipped oh so enticingly down towards and beneath the bands of their shorts. Where Fred appeared to have more muscle mass on display, George's muscles were more refined, the definitions sleek and taut. ' _They are both spectacular,_ ' she breathed to herself appreciatively.

Her mouth went dry – _'holy mother of….I really shouldn't give quidditch such a hard pass – it really does wonders for the wizard physique!'_ she mused.

Fred traced circles on her thigh with his fingers, his other hand running up to encircle her waist.

"'My turn now Georgie," he bit out huskily. "I want a taste."

Fred swivelled her head around and firmly took hold of her mouth. They battled for dominance, his lips familiar but oh so different than George. It was intoxicating, the mixed passions and styles of the two similar yet distinct men currently entwined around her.

She felt George's hand move, slowly and tortuously, down her arms, reaching around her front with deliberate slowness. He cupped one breast then the other, weighing them in his palm before flicking each nipple with his thumb through her suit. She gasped and again pushed her bum back against his hardness, grinding against what she found there. He moaned at her movements and she felt a flash of feminine triumph flow through her, that she could elicit such a sound from him.

As she was all for equality, and didn't want Fred to feel left out, she started moving her leg against the hardness she felt pressing into her thigh. He gasped and channelled his surprised appreciation into a scorching kiss that she knew would leave her lips bruised. She felt elated!

Fred's fingers, having stilled and left her legs when he'd grasped at and turned her face to his, started moving on her thighs again – all the while driving her out of her mind with his intense and deliberate kisses. Closer and closer his circles became to the edge of her suit bottoms. She squirmed in acute anticipation. He was so close – so close to where she needed him to be.

Her body thrummed with need. With heat, with desire. And all of it was directed at the two wizards currently treating her to the most exquisite caresses; who up until a week prior she had never fully entertained thoughts about; romantic, sexual or otherwise. How things had shifted!

George reached his hands inside her suit top, running his thumbs over her bare nipples as Fred's index finger stroked along the centre of her bottoms, straight between her thighs – then working his fingers under the band to stroke her directly. So close, she was so close! She let out a sound she was sure she'd never uttered before – past the point of caring what she looked like or how she sounded. George was working magic on her breasts, his mouth on her neck and Fred – oh how she didn't want his fingers to ever stop his exploring!

Then, just as George bit down hard on her pulse point below her ear and Fred's thumb ghosted over her most sensitive nub, she felt a sensation – like a powerful sneeze – overtake her.

Squeezing her eyes shut against the new pressure, she felt the sneeze-like sensation again – her head jerking forward momentarily, though the force she felt pressing behind her sinuses didn't manifest.

Opening her eyes, Hermione realized many things, rather quickly.

She was alone. The water was now tepid, and the bubbles had all but dissolved. There were no Fred or George, and no indication they'd been there at all. She was still naked, and no suit was anywhere in sight. And the daydream had, in fact, worked –boy had it ever!

She could still feel her body's response to the twins' attentions in her dream. She let out a frustrated, thwarted cry – Bloody hell was she turned on! – more than she'd ever been before. And now she was left to her own devices – which, compared to how talented Fred and George were – according to her subconscious anyway – she found herself sorely disappointed. As her body continued to hum, however; with no indication that anything but full release would suffice, Hermione realized that she really would need to take care of this herself before she headed back the common room!

' _What a bloody brilliant piece of magic'_ , she repeated to herself, after she took matters into her own hands, bringing herself down from her mountainous build-up of need. The transition between reality and her subconscious had been so seamless, so fluid, that she was in awe of their magical talents. She really had misjudged them academically before now, much to her chagrin.

She was also extremely thankful for the twins suggesting she try her first "Daydream charm" somewhere comfortable and private. She couldn't imagine how humiliated she would have been had this occurred in front of Ron and Harry – or even worse – in _class_! She shuddered at the possibility.

Then she realized something that gave her immediate pause, something her mind had repressed until it felt she was ready to acknowledge it – she was attracted to not only _one_ , but to _both_ men – she _wanted_ them both – when did _that_ happen? And, more importantly – what was she going to do with this newfound information?

She knew the twins were anticipating a review, and from their behaviour when they sold her the product, she hoped they'd be receptive to her response. But, oh honestly, how could she let on that they were the featured stars of her experience? That she was so blown away because of their presence in her sub-conscious foray that she had experienced one of the best orgasms of her life – just at the thought of being with the two of them?

Now that her brain had engaged in contemplating this new attraction from all angles, Hermione realized with dread that the mutual attraction felt in the dream was just that – a dream.

' _What if they don't feel the same way as I do for them?'_ she thought, her earlier confidence receding into her typical, self-conscious thought pattern. _'Or, what if only ONE likes me and the other DOESN'T…. or, even WORSE, what if they both do, but don't want to share…?'_

Hermione's mind started to thud and ache at how complicated could this get. Her body was fully sated, but her brain now vibrated with anxiety, confusion and hope. Knowing she needed to head back, so as not to arouse suspicion or questions from Ron and Harry, Hermione decided she'd sleep on this whole conundrum and decide how to proceed the following day after a good night's rest.

* * *

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

Sleep that night was nigh impossible – Hermione tossed and turned, her body still reliving the deliciousness of the dream while her mind went over all possible outcomes and ramifications.

Blearily, Hermione made out the hour on the ancient grandfather clock in the corner of the girls dorm. Well, she thought, 'Dream me _did_ say she'd deal with the consequences later… I guess now's later… I need to send them a letter…'

A resigned sigh escaped her mouth as she pulled herself out of bed, readying herself for the inevitable trip to the owlery. But first, the common room. She had a letter to write and that was the best place to do it.

' _They aren't going to know what hit them,'_ she thought a bit later, envisioning Fred and George's reactions to the letter she had just finished writing. She felt a bit proud knowing that she – bookish, rule-abiding, prefect that she was – would be knocking them sideways with her very words.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

* * *

 **A/N:** **Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed Hermione's little daydream detour... Up next, her letter to the twins ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

The Daydream Detour

 **Summary** :

Set in Hermione's sixth year, this is directly following this exchange between Hermione and Fred in WWW in chapter six of HBP:

"You know," said Hermione, looking up at Harry, "that really is extraordinary magic!"

"For that, Hermione," said a voice behind them, "You can have one for free."

(Pairings: HG/FW/GW).

 **Disclaimer** :

The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and Scholastic. All canon characters, plots, quotes and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

 **Rating warning** :

Rated M for scenes of inferred and of a potentially explicit sexual nature

 **A/N: I want to say a heartfelt thank you to every one of you who has read this story, and especially to those who left reviews. Your words have kept my fingers moving, creating more to what was originally a 'one-shot', and I am humbled by your kind words. I hope you like this next addition.**

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **Chapter 2**

As quietly and as carefully as she could, Hermione lifted her book sac off the floor beside her bed, setting it gently on her bed while she moved to get dressed. Shrugging into the jumper and denim trousers she'd laid out the night before; she slipped on her wool socks and school loafers, pulling her hair back in haphazard disarray and pocketing her wand. Shouldering her bag, she was careful not to wake her roommates as she silently passed their beds on her way out of their room. Tiptoeing down the stairs to the common room, she made her way over to the pair of squishy armchairs beside the fire.

The embers of the dying fire glowed in the inky stillness; casting deep shadows that danced and caressed the furniture in the room that were obscured by the dim light. To some, the current isolation and utter stillness of the typically boisterous common room may have felt lonely, or even evoked a sense of disquiet at the flickering shadows and intermittent hiss of the crackling coals; however, for Hermione, the moonlit calm gave her sanctuary. A refuge in which to explore and put to parchment the turmoil occupying her mind; holding sleep hostage.

She settled herself into the armchair furthest from the common room's entrance – even at this late hour she did not want to chance a surprise interruption – and pulled out a quill, ink, parchment and a book to use as a lapboard from her sac. Pointing her wand towards the fire, she levitated a couple of logs to rest upon the dying embers, reigniting the flames and providing a comforting glow around where she'd settled.

' _Now…How do I put that dream into words? Words that won't have the ability to destroy me, should this fall into the wrong hands?_ ' she thought pensively, _'How do confess my attraction – to both of them…? And what is it that I truly want – a quick pull? A relationship? Right, I need to figure this out! And it would be…disastrous… if this letter were to be misplaced….or lost. I must phrase everything just so…add some protections…_ '

She settled there for almost an hour, working through her confusion about her true desires and formulating how she would approach her wording and content implications. After much deliberation and rewrites, Hermione stood holding her finished letter – the floor around her littered with the scattered parchment of her multiple attempts.

' _They aren't going to know what hit them,'_ she thought, envisioning Fred and George's reactions. She felt a bit proud knowing that she – bookish, rule-abiding, prefect that she was – would be knocking them sideways with her very words.

Having arrived at the phrasing she was happy with, she began casting a series of complicated seventh year spells she'd learned over the summer during a bit of light reading; as a method to suppress her grief and guilt over Sirius's death. First she transformed the writing, from her flowing text into a detailed map of Diagon Alley – a map that when either of the intended party were to handle the parchment – would re-transfigure and fade to reveal the text of the letter. Otherwise, held by any other, it would remain just a map.

She also added in two other protections – one for if there were others around the twins when they handled the letter, or if someone else nicked it – the result had them being redirected. The spell was extremely similar to a 'repello muggletum' – the unintended recipient would pick up the parchment and then suddenly remember they were needed elsewhere.

The second protection, as she was still unsure as to the outcome resulting from her correspondence, ensured that _both_ Fred and George at least _read_ the letter – there would be no hiding it from the other. So the second protection – one that catered more to her emotional needs – was a spell that stuck the parchment to the first reader's hand until both twins touched it – and wouldn't release them until enough time had passed that the letter could be read. This assured her that they would both _have_ to read her message; as she knew how curious they both were and if they both saw a letter, they'd each want to read it.

Hermione packed away her items, stowing them behind the chair she'd been seated upon in the Common room, not needing to carry it all with her. Exiting the portrait hole – and eliciting a fair bit of grumbling from the Fat Lady who Hermione was sure was now deep in her cups – she began making her way to the Owlery, feeling a slight fluttering of nerves along with a tremble of anticipation.

' _I'm really going through with this_.' Hermione marveled to herself, a bit thrilled with her nerve and daring, and a bit anxious to know what would develop. She didn't know how much Fred and George knew about her personally – or if they bought into her public reputation like everyone else; not looking past the veneer to see the fully alive girl beneath. She knew her penchant for rules and her tendency to spout off copious amounts of knowledge solidified the impression that she was uptight and boring. As the quintessential prefect and Hogwarts resident swot, she was held up by both students and professors alike as the ultimate scholastic and intellectual lady of virtue. Books were seen as her preference, not human contact; a notion she'd never seen fit to alter as there hadn't been anyone at Hogwarts that caught her eye or peaked her interest – save for one exception.

Viktor Krum.

She'd been intrigued by and attracted to the handsome Bulgarian – ' _not from the start,_ ' she admitted to herself honestly – after continually observing him in the library. There had been… something… that drew her in – whether it was his quiet attentive manner that seemed directed only towards her, or his open distain and discomfort towards the twittering fawning of the girls that followed him – she wasn't certain. All she knew was that, when he had deferentially approached her and shyly requested she be his date for the Yule ball that year, she'd felt stirrings within that she'd never experienced before. His presence and her internal reaction had sparked a flame inside her that, since igniting, refused to be tempered or extinguished.

Their first date, the ball, had been exhilarating and wonderful – up until the point Ron had made a jealous arse of himself – leaving her in a flurry of tears at his heartless comments. Hermione and Viktor had continued to grow their friendship and tentatively wade into uncharted romantic waters throughout the remainder of her fourth year – though they kept their relationship hidden from the prying and gossiping eyes and tongues of Hogwarts and their guests. There'd been something tantalizing and freeing about fostering a secret that enjoyable – something that was only hers, with no one else's input or critique. She'd also partly refrained from broadcasting their status as she hadn't wanted to contend with Ron's perpetual nastiness to anything Krum related; nor the expected petty comments from her classmates and Rita Skeeter, who only saw Viktor as the famous athlete and therefore something to be desired – not for the person she had come to know. For all that he was two years older than her and an international Quidditch star to boot; Viktor Krum was as shy and inexperienced as she was – making their explorations and physical advancements that much more equal footed.

Over the summer between her fourth and fifth year, she'd visited his home in Bulgaria; where their physical relationship had progressed to its pinnacle. It had been rash, a bit awkward, saccharine and thrilling. She was a keen and devoted student to knowledge; throwing herself into extracting and learning all she could about this newly discovered...subject… one she was suddenly quite passionate about, once she'd let go of her inhibitions, and approached her awakening sexuality and carnal appetites like she would any topic she was interested in. After her whirlwind retreat to Bulgaria, she'd spent the remainder of the summer with the reassembled Order in Grimmauld place - no one the wiser that their prim and proper, eager little bookworm had developed a rabid fascination with… broomhandles…over the summer.

She and Viktor had continued their quiet relationship well into her fifth year, with only Harry seeming to grasp that they weren't just _friendly_ pen pals. Ron's continued jealousy whenever Viktor's name was discussed, clouded his vision and sharpened his tongue; his behaviour towards her sometimes becoming really beyond the pale. Ron had many assumptions, but never sought to clarify what was actually between her and Viktor, something that quite irked her; as other than friendship, she hadn't felt anything else for Ron and his infuriating and hurtful behaviour had driven a slight wedge between them. And as time passed, though she still enjoyed her friendship with Viktor and still corresponded with him from time to time, the brief intensity that had flared while she'd been in Bulgaria had inevitably dwindled. They both recognized that – though an enjoyable interlude – they were ultimately headed down different paths, amicably ending their relationship shortly after Christmas. Not that _Ron_ knew any of this, though…and not that it would matter if he did.

It was a relationship of firsts, kept hidden from the world, except by those it had played out between. She hadn't even told Ginny, although she had an inkling the red headed witch had her own suspicions. It wasn't for lack of trust or a desire to deceive that kept her from confiding in her friend, it was the pure exhilaration of having a secret that was solely her own for once. She knew Ginny would have understood, more than anyone… but as she hadn't revealed anything as of yet, no one had any idea what had been fermenting and percolating below her projected surface.

She understood that if something were to develop between herself and the twins based on her new-found attraction and intrigue, it would upset many preconceived notions of propriety and her assumed pious reputation would take a tarnishing. It was definitely unconventional, even in the wizarding world – her desiring two wizards – adding to the fact that _those_ she desired did not line up with the _individual_ others around her anticipated.

She knew that Harry, at least – she imagined Molly as well based on her heavy hints and machinations – believed that her and Ron's friendship would lead to an eventual courtship; though that was _definitely_ influenced by _his_ behaviour, not her own. Harry had actually confided to her over the previous summer that he'd noticed Ron's behaviour and demeanor had altered towards her, and hinting that it was ok with him if they wanted to explore any… _developments…_ in that area – he wouldn't feel pushed aside. Hermione had a strong inclination she knew exactly why he was being so… amenable… and it had everything to do with a certain red-haired Gryffindor chaser.

Hermione snorted. For all of her adherence to rules and etiquette and her respect for learning and knowledge; she ultimately didn't give a toss about what others thought of her, nor to her externally built reputation that was of others creation and societal projections – her reputation more a tool she used when needed than how she identified with herself. She knew her own mind and had a relatively strong understanding of her own desires, moral code, limits and attractions. She also knew she was not _bloody_ destined to be Ron's… anything… other than his friend. She loved him – as she did Harry – but not in the manner others seemed to hope from her. Their fights were legendary, with most who'd witnessed them assuming they were the result of unresolved sexual tension. For him, she couldn't presume to theorize, but for her – well, Ron, for all his positives, _could_ be a bigoted pampered git at times – and she was never one to back down from asserting her intellectual skill and superiority. She also enjoyed debating immensely, and he seemed to be the only one willing to go toe to toe with her… with the exception of the twins _on occasion_ when she called them out for being irresponsible or breaking some obscene rule and enforcing her prefect role.

It was also exceptionally frustrating to her that such an incredibly elevated society – the magical community where she felt more comfortable, than in the muggle world to which she'd been born – could be so backward when it came to sensual expression and concepts of love. Her mother raised her to be respectful of herself, informed on matters of contraception, to know her limits, and to not feel shame for any desires, thoughts or emotions she may have. Her analytical mind had sought reasoning as she grew – to questions that arose when the world around her displayed disparity to her mother's words – her mother the person she'd turned to for answers, guidance and solace. She had been raised not to fear her sexuality but to embrace it as just another facet of what comprised to make her Hermione – to understand she could be all things; independent, intelligent, capable of critical thought while still being an expressively passionate person – that it wouldn't reduce her value as a human being. Though incredibly secure in herself for a witch of seventeen, she was intrinsically a reserved individual and so instinctively refrained from demonstrating or flaunting this sensual confidence in any form; with Viktor the secret exception.

From everything she'd read and witnessed since becoming a part of the magical world when she was eleven; a women's body was to be kept pure until she was wed, yet a wizard could take to bed any number of gals with nary an eyebrow raised nor judgments passed, werewolves were considered 'species, not humans' and therefore not allowed to marry a witch or wizard, and triads were looked upon with derision and contemptuous intrigue. It made her shiver in outrage, the intolerance and double standards.

For as morally and as upstanding as the wizarding community thought itself, she had never encountered a more bigoted and repressed society. It was all that bloody _pure-blood_ mania and _tradition_ , as those she knew to be blood traitors appeared to be more open minded and easy going. Though, now that she thought about it, even those that had thrown the 'pure-blood doctrine of decorum and thought' out the window still had moments or residual episodes of judgement, close mindedness and prejudicial behaviour.

Take Ron, he was pure blood, raised by a family who embraced muggles and eschewed the old ways; who were considered therefore, one of the biggest blood traitor families in their society. Despite thumbing his nose at the prejudicial behaviour of the Malfoys and their ilk; he had his own moments where he subconsciously or not considered himself above another, due to their presumably different stature. His opinion on how the House elves _wanted_ the treatment they received, his originally repulsed reaction at finding out their favourite professor, Remus Lupin was a werewolf, his reaction at learning Hagrid was half giant – as if that wasn't already obvious! – she could go on for days.

Even his mother, who appeared to love Hermione like one of her own and who opened her heart and home to any she felt was a stray or in need of sustenance; was not exempt from these moments of prejudice and bigotry. Hermione distinctly remembered in her fourth year how Rita's articles portrayed herself as a Scarlet Woman, and how Mrs. Weasley had reacted at the thought of either her Ron or Harry being led around by their noses, or their…other body parts. Never mind that they possessed the ability of intelligent thought themselves; if they were 'led astray' it was surely through fault of _her_ actions. She'd treated Hermione coolly until _Harry_ had had to set her straight; sending her smaller, less personal or genuine gifts, and making her feel horribly alone and unfairly judged. It had stung, to be subtly vilified and shunned with distaste by a woman she considered a surrogate mother, especially over untrue accusations that were acknowledged as fact.

' _I wonder if that is part of the pull I feel towards Fred and George_ ,' she mused, having arrived at the top of the Owlery tower, her legs a tad sore from lack of sleep coupled with the numerous stairs. ' _They also don't seem to care about other's opinions, never letting that stop them from pursuing their dreams. And despite being remarkably brilliant and adept at obscure forms of magic that I yearn to learn more about; their personal lives are lived in a most humble and discreet fashion. In fact, there has never been a whiff of a scandal nor benign idle gossip attached to their names, or of any witch save for Angelina during the yule ball. Mmmmm….They are intriguing…_ '

Cue an encore to her nerves – she wasn't sure if either of the twins were even interested in her, in either a relationship or a purely sexual capacity – despite their flirtatious and curiously atypical behaviour in their shop. She also didn't know if Fred and George were even _into_ sharing if they _were_ interested... She was starting to get herself worked up again, playing over everything she'd been stressing about earlier in the evening.

She extracted the envelope containing her letter from her pocket, hesitating before commencing to tie it onto the leg of a school owl that had flown down to rest in front of her when she entered the top of the tower. _'It's a bit late to be nervous now,'_ she chided herself. Still, her hands froze in her motions, stilling as her mind began contemplating the edge of an emotional precipice.

She was faced with a Schrodinger paradox; sending the letter or not. On the one hand, she could cast an incendio spell on the letter _right now_ , be left with nothing but ashes and the current knowledge that – as there was no proof or action otherwise – the twins reciprocated all her hopes and desires. On the other hand, she could send the letter and know definitively either way – she would have an answer but would never be able to return to the unexamined duality state that they were currently in.

' _Well, chin up Hermione, the letter's written. Where's your Gryffindor nerve?_ ' Hastily, she finished tying the letter to the owl's foot, who now appeared thoroughly put out at her having awoken it just to stand around dithering.

"Take this to Fred and George Weasley, Diagon Alley," she instructed – stepping back immediately as it flew off into the night to deliver his message.

' _In for a galleon…_ ' she sighed to herself, _'It's out of my hands now… Hopefully they don't let me simmer in uncertainty too long…'_

Making her way down the Owlery steps and back to the Gryffindor tower, Hermione's stomach churned with a hint of fear and a heavy dose of anticipation.

* * *

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

The sun was just rising over Diagon Alley, stray lines of sunbeams dancing through the slightly askew window dressings of Fred and George's flat above their store; when George was woken by a vicious tapping on their kitchen window.

Stumbling out of his room, his hair standing on end and his pajama pants slung low and rumpled in sleepy disarray, George opened the window to let the owl in. Moving sluggishly back towards to the sink, he poured himself a glass of water, gulping it down before turning towards the owl who was looking at him haughtily, seeming to tap its feet in annoyance at his delay in removing the delivery.

Grimacing slightly at the barmy hour, he relieved the owl of its burden; who immediately pecked his fingers and flew off back to which it'd come without waiting for payment or even a treat. Shrugging at the bird's impatient behaviour, George closed the window and turned his attention to the envelope now held loosely in his hands.

He frowned, reading his and Fred's name on the plain envelope but seeing no return address nor any indication of the sender. He was certain that had been a school owl, but no one he knew would be writing to them _this_ early through regular correspondence, and unless it was Lee, he couldn't imagine who would be writing to _both_ of them. His curiosity peaked, he quickly opened the lip of the envelope, pulling out the folded parchment within.

'What the bleeding hell… Why in the blazes would someone send us a ruddy _map_? At _this_ soddin' hour? And a map of _Diagon_ _Alley_ at that?' George thought, annoyed that it was now even less likely someone they knew, and more than likely an owl-wizard scam or a customer prank gone askew. Just as he was about to toss it onto the counter and head back to bed for a couple more hours shut eye, he noticed the ink begin to shimmer on the page before transforming into lines of beautifully scrolling text.

He also found that one of his hands was now stuck on what was, apparently, a letter. He tried shaking the parchment off, tried using a knife to pry and lift, all to no avail; before ultimately resorting to spell work. Nothing worked to remove the piece of parchment from his hand. Thoroughly aggravated and flummoxed now, George looked at the bottom of the letter to see who he could send his ' _appreciative_ _thanks'_ to for this wonderfully _thoughtful_ correspondence. He read the name, then reread it – his eyes widening slightly as his brain tried to process what this could mean.

Hermione Granger.

Hermione Granger had written _both_ of them a letter, had sent it to them _before_ the rise of the sun, and had gone _out of her way_ to enchant and obviously _protect_ the letter's message within. After his brain caught up to his eyes, he found himself pounding on Fred's door.

"Oi! Wake up, you tosser! We've received a letter, one which requires our _complete_ attention!"

George pounded on the door a couple more times with his free hand, then turned and put on the kettle, which proved slightly challenging when done one handed. He didn't anticipate they'd be retiring back to their beds after reading whatever it was that Hermione couldn't wait to send them; and he felt tea would be appropriate for the situation. As the water boiled, he heard Fred's muttered curses and muffled shuffling before the door to his room opened; his twin appearing with a slightly panicked scowl.

"What's going on? Was someone attacked?" Fred's eyes were a bit wild as he took in his twin's calm yet slightly vibrating presence as he finished making two teas – one handed as he seemed to be clinging tightly to a piece of parchment. George finished pouring the water into two tea cups, and motioned for Fred to come take his before moving to sit at their small kitchen table.

"No, No one's been attacked, everything is fine. In fact, after this letter we may be _more_ than fine…" he took a sip of his tea, wincing as the scalding liquid filled his mouth before swallowing.

"Thanks for the tea, and cheers to no one snuffing it." He said with false joviality, then shook his head more seriously, " _Honestly_ George, next time, dial down the drama and the volume would you! Why the early morning wake up anyway? Why couldn't we read this letter later, at say, a more… respectable hour?"

"Because, dear brother, it's a letter from one Hermione Granger."

At the name, Fred inadvertently appeared to take in a large gulp of tea; swallowed wrong, and proceeded to choke and splutter while George sat patiently watching and waiting. Once Fred's mouth had stopped burning, and his lungs were clear to breathe again, he gave a bleary eyed smile which George returned.

"Well Georgie, you don't say… I'm quite _intrigued_ as to what our little bookworm has written. And _why_ she felt the need to write to us so _exceptionally_ early…"

"And the little minx thoroughly enchanted and protected her letter, both against others but also against ourselves. She apparently wanted both of us to read it, as I can't seem to pry this off my hand," he indicated the parchment still attached, "either by magic or muggle means. Since it was addressed to both of us, I can only imagine you have to touch it also."

"Nothing like the present…" Fred said, and reached to grab the other side of the parchment. As soon as his hand touched and appeared to also fuse to the message, their hands and the parchment glowed a faint red before the aura faded. George exchanged a glance with Fred, both looking intrigued and impressed with the advanced skill level of the enchantments; they recognized the spell that had been currently placed on the letter as one they'd learned towards the end of their seventh year, before they'd done a runner.

' _It doesn't surprise me that she's learned it though, despite only starting her sixth year_.' George thought _. 'She's so formidable and brilliant, it's downright scary sometimes…'_

Putting their heads close together so they could read simultaneously, they began.

 ** _Dear Messers Fred and George,_**

 ** _I am writing to inform you with deepest regret that I was left highly disappointed with the Patented Daydream charm._**

 ** _You see, after our conversation in your store the day you sold me this product, I was left with a very curious... desire... to try it out. In fact, my fingers couldn't WAIT to get themselves onto the package and delve into its…. potential._**

 ** _I took your incredibly thoughtful advice, and made my way to the prefects' bathroom, where I took all precautions to ensure a thorough relaxation where a wandering mind could flit undisturbed._**

 ** _After filling the tub with bubbly warm water, I disrobed and added all my favorite taps to the bath - did you know that there's a tap with a serum that makes your skin feel like silk? - No? Well, let me just tell you that it is_ the _most exquisite feeling!_**

 ** _My apologies, I do digress! After disrobing, I read your instruction sheet, and I must commend you_ both _on your upstanding responsibility towards the purchasing public. It is quite brilliant and cunning, your effective fail safe, though I caution that blatantly insulting the customer may not be the most – polite - means of addressing those greedy dunderheads._**

 ** _I did as the instructions bade – taking the pill with a full glass of water. I was buzzing in anticipation – what would my mind decide good enough, stimulating enough, to dither away thirty full minutes…_**

 ** _And so I closed my eyes, and I waited. And I waited._**

 ** _As time progressed, I thought to myself, 'At least I'll get a nice relaxing bath out of this,' as the pill was not working. I felt extremely let down, as I desperately needed something to help me relax._**

 ** _And just when I thought I would have to inform you that your batch may be faulty – I was taken completely by surprise._**

 ** _You see, two wizards walked into the room – the room I had so diligently locked and silenced. They had been looking for me, you see, and had also fancied a swim. They had even brought me my own swim suit – though I must confess, the obscenely miniscule scraps of fabric I would hardly deem to call a suit – and they swam while I continued to unwind._**

 ** _After swimming off some of their high energy, the two wizards became quite… distracting, as they'd left their shirts on before plunging in and water reacted very… favorably with the material of their shirts._**

 ** _I have been immensely stressed out with school and with the upcoming war, as you can probably imagine, and my poor overworked muscles bear the brunt of my stress's manifestations and my ridiculously heavy book sac. The two gentlemen recognized how tense and tight I was, and so they proceeded to work me over, top to bottom – using their hands in the most skilled fashion – relieving my knots and muscular aches._**

 ** _I must confess, their skills at relaxation were…_ exceptional _. My body became putty in their talented hands, and as my body melted, so did my inhibitions. I was able to sample_ both _, and they in turn led me right up to the edge..._**

 ** _And that is why, dearest gentlemen, I am writing as to my displeasure with your product._**

 ** _You see, thirty minutes might be enough for some… but for those of us with, shall I say, inclinations that stray a bit further off the path… that time limit is quite restricting. I am immensely disappointed that I was not able to see how my daydream…came to a head; and for that I am left greatly bereft._**

 ** _And, thanks in part to your brilliant fail-safe, I will be in this frustrated and sorry state for the next three days – unless of course you had another… solution? That I might be able to utilize to reduce my… anxieties._**

 ** _I do so hope this letter is given the prompt attention it deserves, though even as I'm not one to brag; a product review from me does carry the weight of all my knowledge and my… expertise… in all things magical._**

 ** _I anticipate your timely response._**

 ** _Yours,_**

 ** _I solemnly swear… HG_**

"Bloody hell," Fred whispered on a long exhale, looking both bludgeoned and if George was correct, a bit aroused.

"You're not effin joking," George replied, his head spinning, his body seeming to mirror what he sensed his twin projecting.

As they finished reading, their hands suddenly released from the parchment. Once free from the heat of their skin, the words transformed once again into a map of Diagon Alley. The twins stared at each other, amazed at the lengths Hermione had gone to ensure her words were not only protected, but that _both_ wizards read the letter in full.

"We should…" George began, motioning to where the letter lay on the table.

"You think?" Fred replied, looking at the parchment as if it might ignite.

"I do… She wouldn't have gone to all this _effort_ if there was anything _benign_ about her review or usage of the product. And she _definitely_ wouldn't have wanted us _both_ to be informed, unless…" George pushed the parchment towards the center of the table, and they began to sift through all the double entendre, looking for their core meanings. After reading and rereading her words amidst various grumbles, mutters and surprised exclamations, Fred finally looked over at George, both exchanging tentatively hopeful grins.

"I'm desperately hoping that her letter is laying out and signifying what I think it does…" George murmured…

"Me too, Georgie, me too… I know we've bandied about the idea for a while, but never would have considered it an actual possibility…" Fred shook his head in wonderment.

"This, Gred, will need to be handled delicately, and discreetly… at least until we know the score and each of us is aware of complete intentions and expectations."

"Absolutely Forge. Let's send this brilliantly cheeky witch her reply – I would hate for us to be seen as uncouth _gentlemen_ by not attending to her most ardent and passionate review in a diligently appropriate manner…"

"Keep up those lines, dear brother, and we will have an adequate endorsement to her missive." George said with a grin, summoning ink and parchment. "I'll put more tea on, sleep is overrated in light of this new… intriguing… direction…"

"Never been more pleased to receive an early morning owl delivery," Fred agreed jovially, and the two put their minds together to create a response that would spark an inferno from the kindling she'd laid out with her words.

* * *

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

Hermione's stomach was in knots, unsure as she was to the reception of her letter; she found she could barely eat breakfast later that morning. Harry and Ron were standardly oblivious to her distracted state, both deep in a debate about some Quidditch manoeuver and its rates of success.

Ginny however, kept shooting her curious and narrow-eyed looks from where she sat across from her, a couple seats down with Dean Thomas. As Hermione again picked up her toast to nibble on, only to put it down once more without eating it, Ginny stood – announcing she had forgotten something in her dorm – and reached across the table to pull Hermione with her from the Great Hall in search of the forgotten item. It was a testament to how anxious Hermione's brain was that she didn't even question or put up a fuss as Ginny dragged her down the main hall and into an abandoned classroom.

Shutting the door and spelling it locked, Ginny whirled around and came to stand beside her friend, who was leaning against a desk in the back row of the room. Hermione seemed to come back to the present and shored up her expression, as her perceptive friend approached.

"Alright Hermione, what gives?! I've been watching you all week, and you're obviously keyed up about something, winding yourself tighter and tighter. And now you're fluctuating between looking as if you just failed a test and having had the best snog of your life." Hermione blinked at her, causing Ginny to forge on, "Right, well, I know you've never failed anything academically except flying, and I _know_ there's no one at _Hogwarts_ who's caught your eye… so I ask again – what has you itching like someone let millylice into school?"

"Oh Ginny, I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Just stressed about the increased war assaults and all the NEWT classes. You know me…" Hermione tried to brush off her friends penetrating gaze, to no avail.

"Hermione, that's utter tosh! I've seen your 'war-worry' face as well as your 'school-is-going-to bury-me' routine – and this has been neither of those… Now… let me let _you_ in on a little secret – I know… I know all about you and Krum, and I think whatever is going on with you currently, has something to do with… feelings you may have towards someone. I have a pretty good idea as to how far your relationship with Krum went and for how long –." Hermione gasped, and Ginny smirked. " – What? You think growing up with six older brothers wouldn't have taught me to sniff out when someone was hiding something deliciously elicit, or how to uncover information discreetly; without even the 'brightest witch' finding out? Pu-lease, give me some credit. I _did_ manage to sneak their brooms all those years without _anyone_ knowing…" She chuckled, clearly pleased at having pulled one over on her friend, "As I've mentioned before, living with Fred and George has taught me that anything is possible with the right amount of nerve."

At the mention of Krum and the brief acknowledgment of what had transpired between them, Hermione's face had bloomed a rosy pink. However, when Ginny mentioned the twins' names, her entire face _flamed_ and she buried her face in her hands with a groan.

"Well well…" Ginny chuckled again at Hermione's discomposure, "Now we seem to be getting somewhere…" She frowned a bit, appearing to contemplate intently on something before seeming to arrive at a decision; quickly pointing her wand at Hermione, who was so shocked at the motion she didn't raise her wand in time to counter the spell lobbed her way.

"Stupefy," Ginny hurled clearly, and then gently caught her friend before she fell to the floor.

"It's ok Hermione," Ginny whispered softly to the unconscious girl in her arms, "You'll understand shortly. Until then, I think I'll just hold onto _this_ for safe keeping." And, tucking Hermione's wand alongside her own in her pocket, Ginny lowered her friend to the floor, and ran outside to seek out Professor Slughorn's… assistance… who she knew would still be enjoying his prolonged breakfast in the Great Hall.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **A/N: I know, I know, a dreaded cliffhanger – I had to, otherwise this would have been an** _ **insanely**_ **long chapter. I** _ **do**_ **, however, have the next chapter written and almost ready to post – just a couple more tweaks and a final pass at editing. I hope you enjoyed Hermione's letter and the twin's reactions, and can't wait to let you in on what happens next. The formatting of the letter looked way better in word, but sadly wouldn't let me arrange it how I wished.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary** :

Set in Hermione's sixth year, this is directly following this exchange between Hermione and Fred in WWW in chapter six of HBP:

"You know," said Hermione, looking up at Harry, "that really is extraordinary magic!"

"For that, Hermione," said a voice behind them, "You can have one for free."

(Pairings: HG/FW/GW).

 **Disclaimer** :

The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and Scholastic. All canon characters, plots, quotes and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

 **Rating warning** :

Rated M for scenes of inferred and of a potentially explicit sexual nature

 **A/N: To those that have followed this story, added it to their favorites, and reviewed last chapter, thank you!** **ptl4ever419** , I hadn't thought of her being drugged but interesting theory! **Saruha** , they are, aren't they! **Courbeau** , I hear you on pesky real life getting in the way :) I also love that my one shot has turned longer! **The Butterfly Dreamer** \- thank you *blushing*, **Believerofmajick** , haha, thank you. I agonized over doing a cliffhanger, but ultimately felt it was the right place to cut the chapter. **Celtic Ice dragon** , **Saki, Luna Gurlz** and **Pianomouse** \- Thank you for you lovely words, all will be revealed below about Ginny's behavior and the twins reactions.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **Chapter 3**

As she had predicted, Professor Slughorn was still at the head table eating his breakfast. The majority of the professors and staff had already finished and had made their way to their respective classrooms, however; Ginny knew of Slughorn's fondness for food and had banked on his solo status at the table. As she walked towards the front of the hall, she noticed Harry and Ron waving her over. Quickly diverting off her intended path, she ambled over towards the two Gryffindors, wanting to placate and divert their attentions before she continued up to the head table.

"Blimey, Ginny, you're back fast! Where's Hermione?" Harry asked, Ron swiveling his head to see if they had missed her entrance.

"I left her walking towards the library, she said she needed to check something out before class. You know how she is…" Ginny shrugged and smiled conspiratorially, and Harry returned her grin with a slight flush to his cheeks. ' _Interesting…_ ' she thought to herself, storing away his response to mentally peruse at a more… _appropriate_ time.

"I just need to have a chat with Professor Slughorn about a potion we discussed in class yesterday. You two should probably start heading to your first lessons as well. I'll see you later on, ya?" As they started to rise from the benches, she nodded to the two of them, pecked Dean on the cheek – witnessing Harry now looking pointedly away, again with pink cheeks – and continued on her way.

Stopping in front of Professor Slughorn, Ginny schooled her face into a worried facade.

"Professor Slughorn, please come quickly. With discretion… I – erm – don't want to cause alarm, but Hermione's fainted…We were talking privately in a classroom and one minute she was _fine_ , the next…" Ginny bit her lip and laid it on thick, making her eyes wide and drawing on all her efforts to look as persuading and innocently worried as possible.

"My dear girl, lead me to her. Quite right, needn't cause a stir… though she should be taken to the hospital wing, just to make sure she's alright. Can't have one of my top students burning out now, no I can't. Do you have any idea what could have caused such an occurrence?" Slughorn pushed his hefty frame away from the table; following Ginny out of the Great Hall. She made sure not to look at the Gryffindor table again as she passed; she really didn't enjoy lying to her friends and brother.

"We were discussing her NEWTs, and how she'd been studying too hard since it's _only_ the beginning of term, and how she hasn't been sleeping very well _at all_. I guess the stress _must've_ caught up to her." Ginny led him to the door where just beyond lay a still unconscious Hermione.

She was nervous, and felt a tad guilty, at misleading Slughorn and using her best friend's studious inclinations against her; but felt confident that once Hermione was revived she'd be understanding of her intentions. She hoped... If not, at least she had her wand until her friend calmed down. As she bounced nervously on the balls of her feet, Slughorn waved his wand and conjured a stretcher, levitating Hermione onto it.

"Shouldn't we disillusion her, Professor, so as not to cause her undue embarrassment on our way to the Hospital wing?" she didn't want to hurt her friend while trying to do the right thing by her.

"Good point made again, my dear. Sharp thinking. Noticed your potential the moment I saw you." Ginny surreptitiously rolled her eyes as he cast the spell, slightly irked that he took credit for others skills and abilities.

' _Pompous windbag,_ ' she thought. They chatted benignly as they made their way swiftly to the hospital wing, his wand still pointed at the disillusioned stretcher but held at his side so as not to draw attention – the two of them appearing to the world as nothing more than a professor and his student discussing classwork.

Quickly reaching the hospital wing, she pushed open the doors and followed her professor in. As Madam Pomfrey bustled towards them, Slughorn quickly countered his Disillusionment charm, revealing Hermione on the stretcher. Ginny knew she'd have to spin her story fast to ensure the desired outcome she'd anticipated and believed was ultimately absolutely required.

Madam Pomfrey gasped at the sight of Hermione, motioning them to position her on one of the beds near the center of the room. "Galloping gargoyles, what happened? Miss. Weasley?" she queried, beginning wand diagnostics on Hermione's inert form.

"She fainted Madam," Ginny replied innocently, "I think she's been working too hard, and her body just needs rest. I think it would do her a world of good if she could remain here for the day, despite any objections from her once she awakens. You know how seriously she takes school… but her health _must_ come first." The school healer turned appraising eyes on Ginny as she all but _pleaded_ – something she knew to be distinctly out-of-character, from the girl she'd looked after following the riddle incident – pursing her lips as she contemplated the situation in front of her. Ginny quickly turned her attention to Professor Slughorn, who was far easier to manipulate. "Professor, would it be ok if you wrote me a pass to stay with Hermione? I don't know the last thing she remembers, and I'd _hate_ for her to awaken alone." She turned beseeching eyes on Professor Slughorn, who she knew, held both students in high esteem and so didn't anticipate any resistance from him whatsoever. Sure enough, he wrote her out a day pass, excusing her and Hermione from classes for the day. Madam Pomfrey sent a sharply curious glance Ginny's way, though remained silent as she continued her diagnostics. Ginny silently cast a rennervate spell towards her friend, and tried not to react when the healer immediately noticed lest she give up her charade. Madam Pomfrey paused in her assessment, straightened and addressed the Professor as Hermione began to stir.

"Thank you for bringing her to me, Horace." She said, leading him rather briskly towards the doorway; Slughorn none the wiser that he was being intentionally corralled out. "I will look after Miss. Granger, and appreciate Miss. Weasley's attentiveness to her friend." Ushering him out of the wing and closing the door, she turned and walked back towards the bed that contained a very baffled but furious Hermione, who was hissing and glaring at the red headed witch in front of her.

"Well Miss. Granger, I am quite unaware as to the true nature you have been brought to my hospital wing, but you have been generously given a day of rest, courtesy of Miss. Weasley here. I don't know what her motives are for staging this… elaborate ruse… but I suggest you two make best use of it."

With that, the mediwitch turned and headed to her office at the back of the Hospital Wing. Waiting until they door had closed, Hermione launched herself towards Ginny.

"Ginny. Weasley. You. Start. Talking. This. Instant!" She hissed, leaping off her bed and punctuating her words with each step towards her friend, who surprisingly looked unconcerned with her friend's wrath and stood tall and proud in the wake of Hermione's fury.

"I know something's going on with you Hermione, and I know that you are an exceptionally private person and like to shoulder everything yourself." Ginny's words started to rush forward, wanting to convey everything to Hermione before the brunette realized she was wandless and the situation went tits up. "But I can see the stress of whatever it is you're carrying, wearing on you, and so I figured you wouldn't tell me unless you were… convinced otherwise… and so I came up with the perfect way for us to not be disturbed… and you have a pass… from a professor, to miss class for the day so you won't get in trouble. Madam Pomfry has a soft spot for you, since your cat incident – and one for me since Tom Riddle's diary – so I knew she'd leave us alone here and assist our cover if needed, and Slughorn is just _way_ too easy to manipulate; though it's dead useful. Since Ron and Harry won't know why you aren't there in class, and won't have the opportunity until at least lunch to find out; they won't want to get you in trouble if you're absence is due to something you'd rather not advertise, so they'll cover getting your homework and taking notes – I do apologize in advance that they won't be up to your typical standards of thoroughness. I thought of everything… so that we can have this time to talk. I did this in order to not only give you a bit of a _break_ from having to hide whatever is burdening you from Ron and Harry, but to avail _myself_ to you as a safe place to unload."

Ginny, a bit proud of herself for getting that all out and not being interrupted, motioned for a silently gaping Hermione to move back towards her bed. When the brunette huffed but complied, grumbling about _'interfering witches'_ and _'personal privacy'_ she knew she'd passed the immediate danger zone and settled herself at the foot of the bed. As Hermione stared at her with a conflicted expression on her face, Ginny sighed, dropping her shoulders in passive defeat.

"Please don't be angry with me Hermione," Ginny pleaded softly "You've always been there for me, guiding me on my crush on Harry, after _everything_ with the diary when no one else bothered to understand how… afraid and _broken_ I'd been… I value our relationship above all else... You are the sister I never had, and I'd _like_ if I could return the favor of being there for _you_. You don't have to hold everything in all the time. I'd like to think you trusted me enough to let _me_ be a sounding board; I do know what it's like, only having boys around…" Typically confident and self-assured, this unexpectedly raw and vulnerable declaration of hers seemed to again render Hermione speechless. Ginny saw her friend clearly struggle to open up, and waited patiently, knowing she'd pushed as far as she should.

"I just… You're right. I have been… _experiencing_ something recently… Something personal… It's, it's not that I don't trust you, it's just… Ginny, there's so much about me that's preconceived, and my pristine and respectable reputation… I'd hate for things to change between us, I'd hate for you to ever feel like you had to choose or…" Hermione broke off and seemed to ponder a bit before sitting up straighter and continuing, looking Ginny in the eyes. "I do consider you, not just as a friend, but as a sister also. It's no secret that I'm bossy, stubborn, _ridiculously_ uptight at times, and have a thirst for knowledge that borders on the cusp of unhealthy – and yet you still want to not only _know_ me, but _like_ me enough to plan this… intervention." She waved her hand around to indicate the room.

"Goodness Hermione, one would think you'd killed a man with all this dreary buildup," Ginny said straight-faced, to which Hermione sniffed, frowning a bit. Ginny had a strong inkling where this conversation was going, she just needed to keep gently prodding, as Hermione had to be the one to bring them there. She wanted nothing more than for her friend to have someone to talk to about what was obviously keeping her up at night, and once that dam was breeched, it would be a relief to finally be able to share all _she_ wanted to with Hermione as well.

"I cherish our friendship, and don't want to lose that. I didn't realize you knew about Viktor and me – I applaud your stealth and you will tell me later how you managed to read the letters I'd so carefully hidden – but there is so much that happened that weren't in those letters. And now, other interests have developed…other layers to my person that I have carefully hidden from the public's knowledge of myself…" Hermione lowered her head, staring hard at the bedspread before lifting her eyes to meet her gaze.

"You like sex." Ginny stated bluntly. Hermione's cheeks flushed, but not; as Ginny realized, from embarrassment.

"I'm not ashamed of anything I've done with Viktor, nor any of my desires. I believe it's through my muggle upbringing and my mother's influence that I have such a strong sense of self in this respect. And I am very protective of these thoughts, actions and desires, as the wizarding world has many _antiquated_ ideals as to how a 'young witch' should conduct herself. Purity above all else – in blood status and in our sexuality. Though I'm not ashamed, and I feel I know you well enough by now to probably assume you wouldn't run for the hills screaming; you _have_ been raised in this world and have existed in it far longer than I have, and I would hate for our friendship to alter because I haven't _'colored inside the lines'_ like a good little witch, and nor do I wish to change that."

Ginny snorted at that and reached her hand out to grab onto Hermione's. "I'm not sure if you've _noticed_ , Hermione, but I'm not some shrinking wallflower, who will wilt or lose her petals if a gust of wind blows the wrong way. I may be a 'pure-blood' but I guarantee you, I would _never_ judge you. It's a tad insulting, after all these years, that you'd even consider that, to be honest… I must not have done a proper enough job of showing you how truly I _despise_ and abhor conventional Wizarding traditions and beliefs. Do you not realize that my parent's anniversary date is significantly close to Bill's birthday? There's a reason there are so many of us Weasleys, and why silencing spells are some of the first ones we learn – self-preservation after all." She winked at Hermione, whose face had screwed up in concentration – Ginny knew she was trying to calculate the exact length of dates between her parents' wedding and Bill's birthdate. She giggled when her friend's face reflected her realization at just _how_ close together those dates actually were.

"Whatever you decide to disclose to me Hermione; not only will I never abandon our association, whatever is said will also stay between us. Having Ron and Harry as friends, it can be… vexing, I'm sure… to not have them see you as more than homework help or their social conscious at times. I know you and Harry share more of a sister-brother bond, and that he'd be more supportive and open to whatever it is you were to confide in him, but I know my own brother, and how he can be _not_ so open minded... I'm also aware of Ron's more _amorous_ feelings towards you, though I'm also distinctly aware that you do _not_ return those... But I have an inkling of where they _do_ …" Ginny let her thought trail off, leaving conversational bread crumbs for Hermione to pick up.

"Merlin, can you imagine Harry's face for that conversation? Thank Ceres that Voldemort is a grown man, and not a teenage girl, or this war would have been _lost_ from the beginning. He'd have no clue how to act, and would probably just sacrifice himself to seem polite!" Both girls snickered at Hermione's assessment, and snorted at the thought of Harry dealing with female hormones and emotions – how clueless and endearingly awkward he became.

"Thanks for that Gin!" Hermione chuckled, then sobered up. "You're right. I needed this, despite your methods, so thank you! It is nice to not worry about school for a day, and I'm so glad I can talk to you about all this…"

"Oh, before I forget, here's your wand… I pocketed it in case your anger at me was a bit more… unrestrained. Better to be safer than sorry, you have been known to be exceptionally creative with your revenge…"

Hermione gasped, clearly exasperated that her assumption her wand was still on her person was false. "Thanks," she grumbled, as she took the piece of wood from Ginny and stowed it securely.

"Hermione, I must admit, I'm a bit curious… In Krum's letter to you just after you'd returned from Bulgaria, he mentioned something about…"

"Ginny! I thought I'd spelled the letter to disappear! Or at least had transfigured it into something unreadable to others. How…"

"Seriously, Hermione! Sister to the twins, remember, as well as a curse-breaker and ministry employee! There's nothing I can't find out if I put my mind to it… Now, stop _skirting_. Was he meaning –"

"Yes…" Hermione cut off quickly.

"And did you really – "

"Yes, and before you ask what I know is next on your mind… yes… and no." Said Hermione, a slow grin alighting on her face at the memory Ginny was conjuring.

"Ugh, I can't believe it! That is _too_ perfect…. Even Malfoy would bow to you if he knew, stupid twitchy little ferret."

"Why Ginny, I didn't realize that Malfoy had such an _appetite_ for others'… acorns…" Both girls dissolved into giggles, and Hermione spent the next while answering all of Ginny's questions and clearing up some grossly distorted myths and trumped up facts that wizards were apt to tell when attempting to impress or cajole the ladies.

* * *

As her and Ginny remained on her temporary bed, talking and laughing; Hermione heard insistent tapping on the window closest.

"It's halfway past morning, the typical owl post has come and gone. Who could be sending you a letter _now_?" pondered Ginny. Hermione's face had lost all its color as she leapt, almost as if in slow motion, towards the window to let the owl in.

"Hermione?" Ginny asked, appearing worried as she looked upon Hermione's ashen yet slightly animated face. Hermione's hands were shaking as she opened the window and the owl perched on the sill.

"Hold up! That's… that's Fred and George's owl – why would _they_ be…" Ginny broke off, her face scrunching into a puzzled pucker, before her expression shifted and elation seemed to seep from her every pore. Hermione kept her eyes studiously averted, attempting to get her shaking under control so as to appear aloof and unruffled, though she knew that was stretching it; untying the envelope from the owl before giving it an owl treat in thanks.

"I knew it! I _knew_ it!" Ginny squealed, bouncing up and down on the bed while Hermione made her way back to where she'd been sitting the past couple hours.

"I told you I noticed something… different… when we were last at their shop!" Ginny grinned, plucking the letter from Hermione's hands. This caused her to react in an instinctual swift and violent manner, as she pounced on the red head – twisting the envelope from her hands – before wrenching herself out of arms reach.

" _Manners_ , Ginny!" She chastised, trying to refrain from looking as nervous or excited as she felt. Ginny made an obvious display of shutting her mouth and sitting on her hands, _after_ motioning for Hermione to get a move on opening the missive.

"Which one sent it?" Ginny inquired, tilting her head in thought.

"Ho ho," Hermione replied, evading Ginny's probing eyes.

She sucked in a deep breath before tearing open the wax sealed envelope. _'This is it,'_ she thought, _'moment of truth… I'm letting the cat out of the box… is it alive – or is it… not?'_

As she pulled out the piece of parchment, Hermione noticed immediately that they had taken similar precautions as she had – although _their_ parchment was spelled to appear as a list of all the WWW merchandise – not a map. She also realized, as she held it, that Ginny couldn't read their words – she'd attempt a glance, her face would adopt a look of flummoxed confusion, before she's shake her head and try again. After the third attempt, she let out a huff and flopped backwards on the mattress.

"I had hoped they'd use less secrecy than the Minister of Magic– but considering _who_ I'm talking with, and about _whom_ – it was a bit short sighted to think otherwise…" Ginny let out a frustrated sigh. "Go on, I know you're eager to read it, whatever it is… I'll just sit here, attempt to count the dust mites floating in the air. Not an _iota_ of care about who sent you what I'm _assuming_ to be a letter, not a one. Don't mind me…"

"Oh Ginny, don't be _shirty_! Play nice; I _may_ just tell you what all's been going on… _depending_ on what's contained in this message."

Having assured herself that the letter that was now legible was unreadable to Ginny, she let her eyes do a quick appraisal – _'decent length, that's encouraging'_ – before beginning to read, their writing much neater and refined than she'd have anticipated. She also saw that they had taken turns writing – it was almost as if the twins were there talking to her in their typically staggered cadence.

 **o0-000-0o**

 _Dear the esteemed_ **and formidable** _Miss Granger,_

 _We are incredibly thankful that you wrote such a passionate and thorough review – we are simply appalled that you were left unsatisfied with our 'Patented Daydream Charm' – and we wish to take immediate action to ensure your satisfaction is achieved._

 **Your detailed description of your daydream was much appreciated, as it has given our research and implementation duo a basis in which to begin its investigation over how to prolong those forays as full and vivid as the one you described.**

 _We are glad our advice regarding the location in which it was advisable to enjoy this charm was amenable to you, and we take great pleasure in hearing that your experience was an otherwise enjoyable and private interlude –_ **despite the rather abrupt ending to the original finale you were anticipating.** _This unfinished culmination is something we wish to address with our utmost attention –_ **we would be quite cross if you believed our products to be – lacking** _– in any way!_

 _One quick note we'd like to bring to your attention,_ **which is not advertised as we wish to not be inundated with howlers from those accusing us of insulting their acumen:** _Our charm is intended to provide a stimulating yet refreshing escape from the harsh realities of our times_ **– though in some cases – due in part to the higher intelligence of the user, this charm becomes almost a neurological truth serum.** _For those with elevated intellect, the dreams they entertain are those that their consciousness has in reality, supressed, and by ingesting our pill – their brain finds a safe environment in which to explore and stretch its legs_ _._

 ***(Side-note: We would be ever so grateful if you could refrain from passing this information on – we attempt to maintain a light-hearted and guiltless retail experience –** _and we'd hate for feelings of shame or remorse to get in the way, in case knowledge lends itself exposure of dusty corners_ **)*.**

 _We are quite interested in exploring the association of the neurological connection and the conjectured impact on the charm's time duration –_ **to see if there are any possible… adjustments, that can be made on our end** _– to ensure a proper immersion into the subconscious desires and dreams._

 _If it would please you, we wish to arrange a meeting face-to-face_ **, where we can demonstrate the measures we take in creating our product lines** _, and you can hopefully assist us in working out the..._ **kinks** _that resulted in an unfulfilled experience for you._

 _We await your reply with anticipation._

 **Both yours, in humble appreciation** _,_

… _We are up to no good…_

 _F &_ **G**

 **o0-000-0o**

"Breath Hermione," Ginny's voice broke through Hermione's mental hyperventilation – who'd reread the letter three times – each time coming to the same conclusion: they _wanted_ her. _Both_ of them… How much of her, and in what capacity – relationship or just a one off – she wasn't sure, but she knew one thing.

It was game on!

She slowed her breathing, excitement and anticipation rapidly engulfing her; her pessimistic nerves diffusing as if they'd never existed.

' _Bloody_ _hell_ , she internally groaned, 'Who'd have thought 'Neurological truth serum' could be such an _effin_ turn on!"

"Whatever it was that whichever twin wrote on that parchment, it must have been good – I've never seen that expression on your face before… But I can _definitely_ interpret that sigh! If only it wasn't a brother of mine causing it – it would be a little less off-putting for me to envision – I'd prefer to never have need to imagine any of them in a carnal entanglement. Though I anticipate, judging by how you're practically panting over there, I'm not about to get my wish anytime soon – am I? Ginny attempted to look put out, but her anticipation and curiosity was sparking off her like dispersed sunbeams.

Hermione carefully folded the now re-transfigured letter and tucked it under her pillow. Turning to face Ginny, she smiled tentatively.

"Sooo…. You know how I alluded to realizing I didn't want to 'color within the lines' anymore…" She paused, licking her lips in nervousness – she hadn't admitted _any_ of this out loud yet, even to herself, and to do so was slightly daunting despite how resolute she was that this was her path.

"I remember, my brain's not _that_ much of a sieve, it was only this morning you mentioned… but what has this got to do with… Oh!" Ginny exclaimed wide eyed, able to interpret inflection and subtleties faster than anyone Hermione had ever met – she was slightly impressed at her friend's accurate deductive skills.

"Both?"

"Both." Hermione nodded, maintaining eye contact lest her friend assume she was embarrassed, or worse, _ashamed_.

"And they…"

"They seem to, judging by their letter."

"Wow! To be honest, I've never even seen or heard of them dating, except for the yule ball, nor heard even whispers of them – _entertaining_ – either witch nor wizard, to be honest. Their focus has seemed to be on their shop and before that, developing products and causing mayhem… This is… unexpected, yet almost – not. If anyone could handle either of them, let alone _both_ , it'd be you! And I think, they will provide you with intellectual stimulation… amongst others I'd rather prefer never to hear of… they _are_ rather brilliant in their varied magical skill sets."

"You're not a little – appalled? I know triads are _definitely_ on the list of things no proper wizard folk should engage in. And I'm not sure in what capacity they fancy me… I don't want to create a scandal over a one-time dalliance if that's what it ends up being…"

Ginny waved off Hermione's concerns with the flick of her hand, shaking her head slightly and pursing her lips in apparent dismissal of her worries. "How did this happen? What sparked this budding association?"

"Well, remember when we were in the shop, that day a few weeks back?" Hermione then proceeded to fill Ginny in on everything that had happened since that pivotal day. She knew she had a response to ink and quill and she would before they left the hospital wing; but currently she was enjoying her time with a now fully-informed and up-to-speed Ginny, and didn't want to cut that short after all the effort she'd gone to, to offer Hermione her support.

Plus, she thought cheekily to herself, 'I doesn't do to look too eager.'

* * *

 **A/N: Again, a sincere thank you to those who've reviewed this story so far... your words are like candy to my brain, giving me motivation and making me want to write more on this story. Your reviews make my day! I know this site can be tedious when using on a mobile browser, and reviewing can be a pain, so if you ever want to drop me a line tumblr is the next best place to reach me. My user name is in my bio. Hope you all enjoyed this latest chapter. I will start the next one soon...**


	4. Chapter 4

The Daydream Detour

 **Disclaimer** :

The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and Scholastic. All canon characters, plots, quotes and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

 **Rating warning** :

Rated M for scenes of inferred and of a potentially explicit sexual nature

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **Chapter 4**

"So when are you meeting them again?"

"Just before mid-day. I've already borrowed Harry's cloak and map, and I'll use the passage that leads into Honeydukes." Hermione said, reaching for the tray of bacon and sliding two pieces onto her plate; the air around her filled with smells of breakfast and the sounds of early morning weekend chatter. "We're meeting on a street just down from the Three Broomsticks and from there, I'm not quite sure. Since they can legally apparate, that's on them – but someplace where being seen isn't a possibility. I _can't_ risk being seen outside school and I _don't_ fancy our first face-to-face – post revelations so to speak – spent hidden under a cloak." Ginny chuckled at that.

"And Harry just _gave_ you his cloak, did he?" She asked skeptically.

"Harry _obviously_ doesn't know the _real_ reason why I'm going, or he wouldn't be so unconcerned about lending it and the map to me. He _may_ be under the assumption that I absolutely _need_ a book that the school doesn't have – and that I can't _possibly_ wait until our first Hogsmeade trip, even though it's only a couple weeks away. He knows how mental I get when it comes to school and books and though I'm ' _completely disobeying school rules to secure a ruddy book'_ as he so mockingly put it – he didn't really question me – more like _threw_ the cloak and map at me and bade me have fun. I think he was a bit relieved I didn't ask him or Ron to tag along, to be honest." She paused, feeling a tad flummoxed and bit out, "I'm a bit surprised he didn't give me more of a trial, considering I've harped on him enough about that intolerable potions book of his. You'd think he'd rub my nose in the fact I'm breaking a _gazillion_ school rules, especially over a book…"

"Maybe he hopes that by _not_ lording this over you, you'll go a bit easier on _him_ about that whole thing. You know how hard a time Snape's given him over the years… And it doesn't take away the fact we all know you're bloody brilliant! Let him have this… With everything going on outside the castle walls, maybe this is the boost he needs, you know?"

Ginny gave her a beseeching look, causing Hermione to sigh in defeat.

"Fine – I'll _try_ and lay off him. It's just… that book is so _infuriating_ … I can't tell when those notations and scribbles were written… or by whom, and so how do we actually trust it? And how did they _know_ all these tricks and spells and whatnot? I mean, you of all people…"

"You checked it out yourself" Ginny cut Hermione off with flashing eyes and a thinned lip stare – the subject of the diary was a raw topic never discussed unless Ginny herself brought it up. Hermione lowered her eyes in ashamed dismay that she'd brought it up so casually.

"And –" Ginny continued pointedly, "it's not _anything_ like the diary and, quite frankly, if you don't trust yourself to know if a books cursed; that's it then isn't it? You just don't like coming in second, especially to an 'unofficial source!' But that's _not_ enough to condemn something as evil or malignant without proof." She set her mouth into a tight thin line as she stabbed at her eggs.

If Harry or Ron had said something like that to her – and really, they both _had_ several times – Hermione would have stormed off in an indignant huff. But she knew she hadn't been fair, tactful _or_ thoughtful when she brought up the diary – and ultimately recognized deep down, that what Ginny described was as close to the truth as she'd ever admit out loud. Even internally to herself for that matter.

"I'm sorry – I shouldn't have –" she began tentatively.

"No, you shouldn't have." Ginny stated seriously, effectively closing the subject by buttering her toast while appearing to consciously tamp down her wrath that Hermione's tactless comment had brought forth; while Hermione sat and drank a sip of her pumpkin juice in remorseful silence. Raising her eyes, Hermione grew wary as she witnessed her friend's face change from its stormy setting into a mischievous facade; an impish light beginning to dance in Ginny's eyes.

"Right! Now, come on then… You haven't said much this past week about all those owls that have been keeping you company at random hours. Have you and…well, _you_ know… Have you exchanged any more fascinating… correspondence… other than your reply?" Ginny waggled her eyebrows comically, causing Hermione to snort her pumpkin juice out her nose; earning the girls curious glances from their tablemates.

"Possibly…" Hermione played coy; extremely glad Ginny was able to forgive her her moment of social ineptitude and joke with her about the twins, but in reality, there was nothing to tell. Their messages had really been quite innocuous. As schoolwork had increased exponentially in the days following their first round of messages, Hermione was just getting her feet under her regarding jugging school responsibilities and prefect duties. And with the twin's business also picking up – arranging a time to meet outside Hogwarts proved challenging. Thank goodness for wizards who could legally apparate, a best friend who didn't really ask questions, and two magical items whose purpose seemed to be geared towards assisting those interested in bending the rules.

She continued to exchange pleasant but sporadic letters with George and Fred; short brief messages that touched on their days, and kept their interests peaked. Nothing else had been spelled on parchment to mirror their first bantering round of communication – none of her detailed and commanding cheek, and no skilled double entendre that left her fanning herself in return.

All three kept the content of their letters surface quality after that first round – letters filled with their personalities and banter, but neutral in tone. Get-to-know-you communiqués. Almost as if, now that they had identified actual interest, they were all holding back until they physically met up.

She was relieved that the most ideal opportunity to meet presented itself to be the following Sunday, less than two weeks after their first round of correspondence and the day Ginny had provided her with a forced day of pseudo-convalescence in the hospital wing – extracting the truth and solidifying their friendship further with their raw conversation. It was one thing to exchange messages through owl post, but if they were to begin anything other than a friendship or acquaintance, actually seeing each other was key – something she was quite keen on.

Hermione wrote them brief missives about classes and scant tidbits of her life that related. She'd been smug in confiding to them her actions in secretly confounding McLaggen at the Quidditch trials and Ron's subsequent securing of the Keeper position; they'd returned what seemed to be a hastily scribbled note that looked to a casual observer to be from her parents – lavishing their hearty approval – along with a substantial box of muggle toothbrushes – which she, after a bit of puzzlement, realized by their subtle smell were actually transfigured deluxe sugar quills. Her undeclared favorites.

She had snorted at the thought that her parents would _ever_ approve of her cunning use of the confundus charm, then was brought up short. The thoughtfulness behind the cover of their correspondence, the fact they'd obviously researched relevant muggle dentist paraphernalia – this was _more_ than a simple gift. That they'd not only remembered an offhand comment about her parents never letting her eat candy and therefore wouldn't send her any, but that they were also _dentists_ …

She'd held physical proof in her hands that they not only listened to things she didn't even really remember saying, but _cared_ enough to research muggle habits and motived enough to create realistic disguises to that affect.

Her cheeks had reddened as she stared at the transfigured elements in her hand, her heartbeat increasing as she'd realized their innocent communication over the previous days was drawing her further down a rabbit hole she didn't think she'd ever want to withdraw from. She'd sat, eyes glazed in internal self-reflection, before looking across the table and bursting into peals of laughter at the quizzical expression on Ron's face as he regarded her delivery. Since there was a teeth cleaning spell, most of the wizarding world hadn't been exposed to muggle teeth cleaning instruments, and his baffled expression reminded her she'd never introduced him to this muggle invention. Although, surely he'd witnessed _Harry_ using one, at least _once_ over the past 6 years… she'd made a mental note to ask Harry sometime.

When Fred and George wrote, at random times with rented owls to not arouse suspicions, they told her about new products they were thinking of, funny anecdotes with customers, and tests that misfired – along with sometimes, the hilarious consequences – to which she'd have a laugh at and respond with potential adjustments or counter charms to facilitate healing from their minor mishaps. Their replies gave indication of their appreciation and their respect for her methods and ideas, and she could feel her attraction to them grow with every note and message they exchanged. To have her intellectual abilities recognized and desired rather than mocked – it was a heady thing indeed.

She realized this wasn't just about having an enjoyable quick pull anymore; she found that she actually _liked_ them – who they were as people – and _definitely_ not just because they sent her brilliantly thoughtful gifts. They challenged her intellectually, had her re-evaluating her desire to follow rules, and they made her laugh…

Despite the sensuous urgency of their first correspondence, and the teasing bantering regarding the 'daydream charm,' she'd ultimately decided to hold off taking the other pill until she'd met with Fred and George – now that she was actually going through with exploring where this went between them all, she didn't want her subconscious to set her down a path that may not be realized in reality. She wanted the real thing, whatever that entailed, before potentially dabbling in _charmed dreams_ again _._

' _Although,'_ she internally mused, cheeks heating slightly as she thought, _'my dreams have definitely_ not _been lacking in… satisfying… material lately.'_

She was coiled, primed; ready to burst at the seams with anticipation, anxiety and want. Her mounting emotional attraction did little to help matters. To their credit, Fred and George didn't bring up the second charm she held in her possession either, to which she was greatly relieved. She didn't want to extrapolate or put feelings onto parchment quite yet, at least not before seeing them. Some things were best left for more... _personal_ … discussions.

During the days leading up to their rendezvous, Hermione vacillated between excitement and extreme nerves.

She'd also been trying to subtly dissuade Ron's developing interest in her. She'd noticed his feathers had ruffled the morning of Quidditch try-outs when she'd complimented Harry and not him, and she point blank refused to allow herself to be pulled into a male preening display that was completely one-sided. She'd been explaining why Harry – not Quidditch – was popular this year, as her bespectacled friend was truly oblivious in these matters. Everything she'd said had been the truth – as one sibling would say to another. It wasn't _her_ fault Ron got jealous, and it wasn't her job to hand-hold Ron and spoon feed sycophantic spittle to sooth his own personal insecurities.

She'd also begun to notice Lavender's interest in her male red-headed friend, especially on the day of the Quidditch trials, and hoped she could potentially steer his desires and interest in that direction. She loved Ron, he was an intrinsic part of their trio and a valid reason they always came out of their 'adventures' relatively unscathed – though his gut instincts and tactical mind. He was funny, drove her up the wall at times, but ultimately one of her closest friends. She didn't want to lose that friendship, especially over an unrequited crush that would eventually only lead to heartache and unhappiness on his end.

She looked down the table and saw Lavender sitting with Pavarti, across from Ron and Harry. She inwardly smirked – _'Maybe my attempts to prod him in her direction are working…'_ She was relieved.

Now the day she'd been anticipating the last two weeks had arrived.

"Oh Ginny… my stomach – I can barely eat! What if this goes belly up – what if Harry, Ron… when they find out… they end up _hating_ me? They've started getting curious about all the owls, but after Ron got upset at me writing Krum last year, Harry tends to steer him to other topics and they pretty much leave me alone about them – just in case… Oh, what was I thinking, meeting outside the school like this? It will end in utter disaster! I'm going to be caught, I know it, and… and… expelled… Oh what am I _doing_?" Hermione whispered across to Ginny, her delicate looking but strong fingers clutching her fork tightly, knuckles whitening under the pressure.

"Going after what you want!" whispered Ginny supportively, "You're going to go, and sort this out between you and the twins, and you are not going to let anyone but the three of you dictate whatever will be between you. Someone can't handle it – toss them; and as much as I love her, that goes for mum as well! Though she'd do almost _anything_ at this point to not lose contact with any more children – what with Percy the Prat – and Bill's now keeping things detached and perfunctory, as none of us were exactly welcoming to _Phlegm_ … Mum'll probably accept the twins dating a _Cerberus,_ just as long as they don't stop coming 'round for Sunday dinners."

"Good to know I rank up there with a _Cerberus_ , Gin," Hermione said dryly.

"All I'm saying," Ginny snorted, "Is there's more to this world than who you or they are dating – and if close-minded blighters can't understand that – well – that's a ' _them'_ problem, not yours. I know my mum wasn't exactly _sensibly_ _minded_ , nor fair, in her treatment of you when she put too much stock into Rita's articles during the tournament – and _frankly_ , even if you _had_ been playing both wizards, they each have minds, don't they? They would have been _just_ as involved and could have made their _own_ choices in the matter – I mean, the way the articles were written, you'd think they were only mindless puppets, being pulled by you, the Machiavellian puppet master..."

"Are you _trying_ to make me feel better about all this, or make me _rethink_ meeting your brothers? Honestly Ginny, you're adding onto the stress I'm already feeling over this…" Hermione cut off Ginny's passionate ramblings, feeling slightly warmed that her friend cared so much, but her words were also causing the pit in her stomach to widen. She rubbed her forehead, feeling the pinprick of a headache coming on, and hoped it wouldn't blossom into anything debilitating. Not today.

Ginny, appearing to realize her defense of her friend was backfiring, quickly changed course. "I'm sorry… I get carried away at the injustices in our world sometimes. All I was meaning to say is, I _wish_ she wasn't so antiquated sometimes, but she's slowly coming 'round. I'm _proud_ of you for going through with meeting them, not running from this out of fear… going after what you want..." Ginny shot a discreet look to where Harry sat, just slightly down and to the left of them in boisterous conversation with Ron and Neville. A wistful look flit across her face before she reigned it in.

"I know Ginny," Hermione soothed quietly, reaching across and placing her hand on top of hers. She knew how hard it was for Ginny when she decided to move on from her crush on Harry, to date other people; to loosen up around him and embrace her true nature around him. Fourth year had been a challenge for Ginny, as she'd witnessed the boy she cared for struggle through all that he had last year, then through the devastation of losing Sirius… knowing she couldn't be there to comfort him, as anything other than the sister of his best friend. Maybe even as a close acquaintance, after the Battle at the Ministry.

 _Although_ , now that Hermione reflected upon it, she had seen signs of Harry's behavior and inclinations changing towards Ginny over their summer together at the Burrow. Slightly similar in nature to how Ron's had changed towards herself this year so far. Though, _unlike_ Ron, he hadn't been caught up in Fleur's veela aura at the Burrow, and had seemed to find the situation somewhat amusing – even using Ginny's nickname for Fleur at one point when chatting with her red-headed friend. She wondered if Ginny had noticed the changes in how he looked at and treated her.

"I mean, I'm _happy_ with Dean, I really am. Didn't know if he'd go for me, to be quite honest, as I'm younger. But I'm thrilled he did – he's terrific and funny and caring and completely _fit_ ; it would be horrid of me to compare him to or wish him to be Harry – which I don't!" She shot Hermione a protective glance, and continued in a whisper, keeping her voice low so that those around them couldn't hear their conversation. For good measure, Hermione cast a muffliato; despite her continued vocally depicted reservations over where Harry had learned the spell. It irked her no end how handy a spell it was, which made her loath the damn thing and its mysterious origins even more, despite continuing to use it.

"And believe me," Ginny continued lowly despite the extra precautions, "I've _absolutely_ abandoned that obsequious _infantile_ crush I had on him as a child… but honestly Hermione… I can't help still caring for him at least a little, since getting to know him the past couple of years… He draws me in without even realizing… _him_ , not the 'chosen one' rubbish, or the public's interpretation of what he can do. Just him – just Harry. Despite _everything_ he's been through, he still has an innocence about him, he's still pretty pure-hearted – never letting the world break him. Though even with that, he's still human, still incredibly flawed; I think it's those flaws that endear me to him most. But I'm not so naïve or besotted as to stop living my life, just because there's maybe a potential chance that he'll someday return my feelings… your advice was spot on there – cheers to that – and what I feel for Harry doesn't detract at _all_ from what I currently feel for Dean. Dean's just, well… he's _Dean_! He's pretty spectacular in his own right. It just, sometimes… sucks, you know?" Ginny sighed, blowing out her breath in a long exhalation and picked at her toast before adding.

"It was easier to move on last year, easier before he stated showing what I can only assume to be _actual_ interest, not just seeing me as Ron's sister or a hanger-on. At least now I'm a person to him, and he seems to consider me a friend. I know _you've_ noticed his treatment changing, and I _definitely_ did the day I brought you to the infirmary; he went all pink faced when chatting with me, and pointedly ignored when I kissed Dean on the cheek. He seemed disappointed, almost annoyed on the train coming back here when I went off to find Dean instead of sitting with you lot, and he seeks my opinion or commentary whenever we're in the same vicinity and he can do it without stirring Ron's notice. It would just be nice, you know, if I didn't have this potential development of his wave itself in front of me; especially now that I'm actually enjoying life here at Hogwarts and have shelved the bulk of my feelings towards him."

Hermione gave Ginny a look of support and commiseration. Sometimes, timing and life just didn't match up – it hurt her to see her friend tormented.

Ginny growled slightly, pushing back a bit from the table in frustration. "Right – ok, I can't talk about this anymore… it's too depressing and it's putting us in the wrong mindset. Soon you'll be off on a fun pseudo-scandalous rendezvous and I will do my part to ensure the clueless duo – and anyone else for that matter – stay clueless when you wander off and are gone for merlin knows how long… getting… your _book_."

"Thanks Ginny. I appreciate it! Is there anything I can pick up for you while I'm out? I'll try to surreptitiously purchase some items if possible."

"My pleasure – I can't wait to hear – not _all_ the details – but at least about the date when you get back…"

She seemed to consider Hermione's offer for a moment before delightfully replying. "If you _happen_ to visit Zonkos, can you purchase me a couple of items? It's been my tradition since my brothers first began creating products – to brass off Fred and George – they get so affronted when I tell them someone else's pranks or products give theirs a better bang-for-their-galleons." Ginny chuckled, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'll… try… just, I don't want to poke the bear, at least until I've determined what's going on between us. Then you can do your thing and rile the beasts within," She paused, contemplating something before she added, through slightly quirked lips and heavy lidded eyes, "Although, maybe… _I'll_ be the lucky recipient of that unfettered aggravation… I'm sure they'll need an outlet, and I'm positive they could be… _creative_." Leaning back, she watched as Ginny's face lost a bit of color at the visual she painted, then flush a bright red as she let out a deep belly laugh.

Hermione noticed, around the table, heads turning towards them at Ginny's exuberant body language, and also the frowns that played on their faces when they realized all they heard despite the appearance of raucous laughter was a slight buzzing in their ears. Hermione quickly dispelled the muffliato spell and she and Ginny resumed their chuckling, though at a much lower volume and force. Those around them seemed to shrug off their confusion and curiosity, giving them side-eyed glances of bemusement before turning back to their own breakfasts and conversations.

"Point to Granger, well played _mademoiselle_. Although – hello! Brothers – slightly _ewww_ , you know? Dilute the details, remember?"

"Ginny! _Harry's_ like a brother to _me_! And I distinctly remember a dream last year, after a decidedly vicious and _wet_ Quidditch match, that you proceeded to describe to me – in _vivid_ detail may I add – so _don't_ think we are even _close_ to equal on the 'brother' front…" The girls exchanged looks of resigned exasperation – both stubborn and refusing to acknowledge their quandary verbally – before their exasperations faded into one of acceptance to their reality. They knew they were both destined – or at least Ginny was for the foreseeable future – to hearing things that would otherwise be enthralling, but in these circumstances – about whom the conversations revolved – they were just on _this_ side of uncomfortable. Though, seeing as they only trusted each other with these personal thoughts and comments, they'd each bite the pixie and listen with open ears, while trying to push aside the visuals brought forth about their kin.

' _But that's what you did for those you love,_ ' Hermione thought to herself as the two girls ate their food with renewed gusto, chatting at a more normal volume as the conversation turned to more benign topics of discussion. _'You grin and bear the uncomfortable sometimes, as it's worth every moment of discomfort that lets you see them smile.'_

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

The morning had sped by after breakfast. She'd hung around the common room with Ron and Harry, reading a book while the two boys played exploding snap. She'd watched as Harry kept shooting discreet glances to the corner where Dean and Ginny sat cuddled up on an oversized lounger, looking to be in deep conversation. She'd cough slightly and rustle the pages of her book, causing him to return his gaze sharply to the game and his face to flush slightly. He didn't seem to notice her, noticing him; and her heart went out to her two friends and the boy who she predicted would eventually be caught in the middle.

Dean was a nice enough bloke; he'd always been kind to her since their first year, and he appeared to treat Ginny well. Hermione had always liked and gotten along well with him, but she was first to admit she was heavily biased in this scenario. She'd never been quite sure if Harry would ever end up developing feelings towards Ginny other than friendship, but she'd seen signs throughout the years that kept her from completely writing it off. She'd known he'd needed to grow a bit first – experience other crushes – he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and as much as she loved him like a brother, he could be a bit obtuse on the emotional front. She'd hoped he'd see in Ginny what Hermione did – how she seemed to balance him out – but hadn't dared hope until she'd seen his behavior change during the summer. Ginny was one of the few females to view and treat Harry like a person, not a celebrity or trophy – other than Luna and herself.

At one point last year, she'd thought that maybe Harry was developing romantic inclinations towards Luna, but they seemed to remain fond friends at most. Though, now that she was witnessing his altering behaviours towards Ginny, she couldn't help but be a tad exasperated with him. Ginny was currently at peace with her place in the school, content in her relationship with Dean – she didn't need to be pulled back into the murky quagmire of emotions she'd had for Harry – not unless _she_ decided she was through with her relationship of her own accord. Hermione hoped Harry's emotional epiphany manifested itself when, or if, Ginny was single – though if Dean turned out to be 'it' for her – or at least 'it' for now, well then – she'd just have to help Harry move along as she'd done for Ginny.

After a morning spent laughing at singed eyebrows, internally reflective over her friend's subtle pining and watching her other friend visibly preen for Lavender – who'd shown up with Pavarti and had sat near the trio – she excused herself to go to the library. Ginny had kept her promise and provided her cover when the time came; engaging not only Harry and Ron but also Dean, Seamus and Katie Bell in a Quidditch scrimmage out on the training field. It had immediately secured their attentions, along with various spectators; allowing Hermione to 'go to the library' unquestioned as it was common knowledge she just wasn't that into Quidditch – just the players. Her absence – for those not aware of her true destination– was understandable and barely worth noting. 

**0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

The walk along the darkened corridor took less time than Hermione had envisioned. Arriving at the opening of the trap door in the back room of the sweet shop, she closed her eyes and held her breath for a moment, listening for any sounds above before pushing the door open.

Quickly pulling herself up and out of the passageway, Hermione dusted herself off, quietly closed the trap door and again donned the invisibility cloak. It had been relatively easy, sneaking around the castle and down to the hidden passageway, navigating the thong of students making their way to lunch or outside on the lazy sunny Sunday.

Now, making her way through the back room, she slowly slid the door open and peered into… a _deserted_ shop. She'd forgotten that when Harry'd come in this way their third year, there'd been loads of students about, hiding his ascent and foray through the shop. But even without the students, the shop seemed uncommonly empty. Presently, only dust mites and flickering lights kept the shiny treats and delectable eateries company. She swallowed rather loudly due to the dust from the corridor and back room coating her throat; hoping the sound wouldn't carry to the storekeeper she saw was rummaging papers at the cash desk, just to the left of the entrance.

' _Bugger me, how did I, we, not anticipate this? There must be a way to distract the shop keep from his front door opening right beside him…_ ' she chastised herself – and Fred and George for that matter – for being so short-sighted in this, before mentally perusing distraction plans. She guessed she _could_ wait for someone to enter the shop, but, based on a quick glance towards the exterior and the absolute stillness of the town, she figured she'd be waiting a long time. Quickly, though which felt to her to be much longer, she arrived at a diversion that would cause the least amount of damage or headache for the shopkeeper.

Slowly, silently, she crept towards the front, dodging racks of sweets and displays of chocolates so as not to create a diversion of an unwanted sort. Then, positioning herself beside the door, she flicked her wand towards the back and caused a display of Ice Mice to surreptitiously burst at their seams – causing half a dozen to squeal and squeak while descending to the floor. Knowing these bewitched mice were similar to the chocolate frogs and that she had a very finite time frame in which to take advantage of the diversion caused by their release, Hermione quickly slipped through the door as the shopkeeper moved towards the rear of the shop with his back to her – the squeaks of the mice masking the tinny ring of the bell over the door – a bell she'd never heard before due to the store typically being loud and full of students conversing in excited and boisterous tones.

She made a mental note to remember about the bell when she returned later that evening, _if_ she decided to come back this way. _'Honestly,'_ she thought a bit peeved, _'Next time we decide to meet outside the school, I'll need to create a color-coded, fully cross-referenced, detailed-to-the-minutest-degree plan! These surprise conditions really are getting to be a bit much.'_

Reigning in her internal grumblings and breathing a sigh of relief that her decoy had worked, Hermione ensured the cloak covered her completely and set off for their designated meeting spot. 

**0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

She heard and saw them approach the spot she was standing in wait, hidden under the cloak and almost vibrating with nerves and anticipation. She knew Tonks was the Auror posted to patrol around Hogsmeade; or at least she _assumed_ she was, as Tonks had been present when Harry'd run afoul of Malfoy and was late off the train at the start of term. She hoped the older witch wouldn't come upon her, Fred and George before they'd disappeared, as she didn't want the awkwardness of questions and the realistic potential of getting sent back to the castle and the subsequent detention and loss of points. However, _if_ anyone were to observe their interaction and departure, she trusted Tonks to not let on or make a scene – and if she _did_ have questions; to ask them to herself directly and not feed the wizarding rumor mill or incite action that would hurt her academic standing.

Fred and George sauntered close, appearing to stop nonchalantly to chat and have a casual look round. In reality, she knew they were locating the spot she stood due to her innocuously dropping transfigured dew berries on the ground - their pre-arranged signal - and she also knew their nonchalance was anything but. Just as she could feel herself vibrating, she could feel their energies surrounding them as they came to rest beside her, their energies pouring off them like waves crashing ashore.

"Well Fred," George said, looking around and squinting slightly in the mid-day sun. "I reckon we'd best be off, there's a tasty treat I'm craving that I won't be able to fully enjoy here..."

"I can also think of something that I'm quite anxious to dip my fingers in..." Fred agreed, a smirk playing on his lips.

Hermione sucked in a breath at their words, causing George's eyebrow to twitch slightly, indicating he'd heard her. He subtly shifted closer, brushing his hand against her invisible one. Discretely moving the cloth aside, he gripped her wrist and positioned his body so it appeared as if he was reaching into his own pocket should anyone be observing them. She felt a tingly warmth spread from the point where their skin connected, and it took all her focus not to utter additional verbal indication of her presence. Positioning his fingers more securely along her wrist, he shot Fred a look she couldn't decipher and said "Right, _we're_ off then? See you there..." And with that, he side-along apparated her to a location she hadn't expected. 

**0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **A/N: Thank you again for all your reviews, follows and faves. They make me ridiculously, positively giddy. I must say I'm having a blast writing this story, and am really pleased to have you enjoy it along with me.**

 **Your reviews are** _ **always**_ **appreciated – seriously, I can't tell you how much they mean to me. They make my day!**

 **~G**


	5. Chapter 5

The Daydream Detour

 **Disclaimer** :

The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and Scholastic. All canon characters, plots, quotes and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

 **Rating warning** :

Rated M for scenes of inferred and of a potentially explicit sexual nature

* * *

 **A/N: First, thank you, thank you all who reviewed! Your words feed my writing monster. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.** **You all make my days brighter with your comments.**

 **Secondly… their first date! It's here… Enjoy :)**

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **Chapter 5**

They landed with an uncoordinated shuffle and entanglement of limbs, in a room that from a dizzy glance, felt to her at once familiar and yet oddly… not. As she'd never apparated before – even by side along – she struggled to get her bearings before having to shut her eyes tight in an attempt to stall the urge to vomit.

Struggling out from under the invisibility cloak, and clumsily stuffing it into her bag that hung from her shoulder, Hermione took numerous deep breaths to steady herself.

"Easy does it, first time's always the worst," George's voice crooned softly in her ear, his hand still touching her wrist gently and his thumb rubbing lazy comforting circles on the inside of her wrist. "Breathe Granger… I've got you. Things'll settle down in a moment, I promise."

As his words rolled over her and his warm breath fanned along her neck, she felt her body balance back into its equilibrium. Her stomach settled, and she breathed a sigh of relief that she wouldn't start their date off – she was _fully_ considering this a _date_ – by having the misfortune of expelling her breakfast in front of them, possibly even on them. Even though they'd known each other for _years_ , first impressions of the _romantic_ sort were still vulnerable to solidification.

Opening her eyes, she raked them along with her hands quickly over herself first, then George; appraising whether they'd splinched themselves apparating. As her hands made a journey over his torso and arms – her brain barely even acknowledging the muscles, skin and fabric below her fingers as she reassured herself he was whole – she registered _his_ had made their way around her hips to lightly rest upon the small of her back, though he kept the rest of him motionless under her focused explorations. To an outside observer, their positioning could have been mistaken for a muggle photo of two people slow dancing, save for her quick yet methodical movements.

"I always appreciate a good show Granger, though I _wish_ you'd have waited until I could partake," chuckled Fred with a smile. His voice brought her out of her diligent perusal of George's form, making her jolt in surprise at his nearness. She _must_ be scattered to not have heard his own pop of apparition, for it _had_ to have echoed through the desolate space they were in, moments after their _own_ arrival.

George removed his hands from behind her and reached up to gently still her roaming fingers at Fred's joke, giving them a squeeze of reassurance.

"All whole, though I greatly appreciate your… _diligence_ ," he said, grinning down at her.

With a soft smile she released his hands, then turned and took fuller stock of her surroundings before returning her attentions to the wizards in front of her. Now that they were all together, her nerves had ratcheted to an all-time high, as was demonstrated by not even hearing Fred's arrival. She found she was too nervous to even look his way at the moment, so chose instead to take in her environment.

The walls around them were profoundly faded and had deep violent etchings sprinkled around the room; what was left of any wallpaper that had attempted to exist now had shredded edges and peeling mildewed corners. There was a thick layer of dust coating the dilapidated floor they stood upon that threatened to trigger a massive sneezing fit, and through the patchy beams of light that streamed into the room between the slats of the boarded windows, she could see a multitude of spider webs covering various surfaces and crevices around the room – those that she could make out anyway.

This room, she knew, hadn't seen a visitor in over three years – not since the end of her third year when they'd met Sirius and Pettigrew and later had encountered a transformed Moony. Before that, this room had stood empty for over eleven years – and even when it had been inhabited, it was never by those who cared to upkeep or restore – instead who'd rather demolish.

It bore its neglect and previous abuses as well as any building could under the circumstances – it was sturdy against the external elements and warded for complete privacy – though she'd _definitely_ never thought of the Shrieking Shack as a particularly romantic setting.

She was slightly baffled as to why they'd chosen _this_ place for their _first_ date – out of everywhere they could possibly go, not even _counting_ muggle locations – especially considering her _history_ here. Though she couldn't argue the fact that they were completely alone, with limited chances of someone knowing of their presence. And she wouldn't have to worry about sneaking back through honeydukes storeroom to get back to school anymore. Although...

She'd previously assumed that if the wards were breached, Dumbledore as the headmaster would be alerted, as it most likely meant previously that Remus had escaped or in present day, the shack was under attack. Though, now that she reflected upon it, the marauders had ventured into the shack every month for at least two years as students; and that, to her knowledge, Dumbledore hadn't been aware of this until three years ago. And… since the night they'd freed Sirius from the Dementor's Kiss, she wasn't aware of any _addition_ security measures being required or added, as the past and usual inhabitants were now known and trusted friends of the headmaster and no one else dared trespass or give notice to the dilapidated shack.

"The wards… How were you able to apparate us in?" She queried, curious and a bit uneasy. She knew Dumbledore himself had set the wards when Remus had been a student, and she remembered Remus saying no one could apparate in or out of the shack. Yet they had all done _just_ that – and this unnerved her...

"We'll explain _that_ a bit later…" George started, with a slanted look towards his twin.

"But rest assured, _no one's_ been alerted – the wards are still intact, they're just a tad… _pliable_ , under the right conditions. The shack will not be _parleying_ any of our secrets today, nor any other." Fred finished in appeasement.

Hermione realized they had read her air of unease she'd tried to mask – it wasn't that she didn't trust their magical abilities, it was just the high potential of getting caught out of bounds that was causing her unease – and their attentiveness to her once again helped stifle the butterflies currently flitting around her midsection. Both Fred and George appeared just as nervous as she – now that she was done analyzing the room and was focused solely on them – and _that_ more than anything, actually helped to quell her own anxiety.

She began to realize that since there were two of them versus one of her and, them being _slightly_ older, at least in _their_ minds – they probably didn't want to scare her off by leading off too fast – meaning she would most likely need to set the tone and what her expectations were. Though just as she began to open her mouth to speak, George cut in.

"Right! Now that we're all aware Dumbledore's not going to come breaking down the door…"

"So to speak, as there _isn't_ a door," clarified Fred, shaking his head in mock disgust. George tipped his head towards his brother in acknowledgment.

"Right on that one, Fred! And as much fun as dallying around in piles of dust and grime is…" George continued.

"We'd be delighted if you would _kindly_ accompany us upstairs. We have a surprise we'd like to show you..." Fred finished, holding out his hand for her to take.

Placing her hand in Fred's outstretched palm, she noticed, as he threaded his long fingers through hers, that both their faces held expressions of anticipation and excitement, combined with a heartwarming touch of anxiety that were plainly on display.

It was _that_ , their anxiety; which caused her mouth to open and for words meant to ease their discomfort to dribble out while her unclaimed hand fluttered up to her chest in an openly flirtatious gesture.

"Why, Fred, George… I'm _flattered_ , but I won't say that'll be a _surprise_..." She purred and sent a wink their way. "And to think, we haven't even exchanged a proper _greeting_ or shared a _meal_ together yet." She beamed cheekily at them, watching as her words landed their mark.

She assumed that ' _that'_ wasn't the surprise Fred had been referring to, but, needing something to put them all at ease, this had seemed the most direct. After a beat – at first having registered an almost panicked astonishment on their faces – the twins burst into hearty laughter and she felt her shoulders relax as her remainder of her awkwardness drained away.

"Well done Granger, well done! Tension officially broken." said Fred, bowing slightly towards her, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Thank Godric, it _was_ feeling a tad taut and stale in here," George affirmed, pulling on his collar while sending a less-than-graceful curtsy her way.

"Lead the way _gentlemen_. I believe you have a _surprise_ to show me?" Hermione said, chuckling low in her throat, motioning to the stairwell. As the two turned and she was led upstairs by Fred's hand, she heard their whispered banter as she followed just behind them.

"Gentlemen, Forge, she called us _gentlemen_ ," Fred whispered bemusedly.

"Tsh! We know only one of us is… _gentle_ … aye Gred? She'll soon be searching for _another_ endearment – brightest witch and all." George replied in just as low tones.

She shivered at their words, her mind ghosting over the myriad of possibilities their words evoked as they ascended the stairs.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

They made their way together to the landing of the second floor, the stairs groaning and expressing distaste at being walked upon after such a lengthy period of disuse. As they met the landing, Hermione saw a thin spread of light escape from under the door situated at the far end of the corridor across from the stairwell – its presence pronounced due to the dimness of the landing.

As her eyes adjusted to the light levels – which were substantially less than the main floor due to the existence of only one boarded window, present on the wall just behind them – she noticed that the second floor landing appeared… cleaner. No dust appeared to linger on the banister, floor or walls, and there was a distinct lack of the debris she remembered having resided in this area three years prior.

"I see you did some housekeeping," She remarked, running her finger along the freshly dusted banister.

" _Someone_ had too, couldn't have us lounging around in the sorry state the previous tenants left this floor in. The previous tenants were just… animals…" Fred cheeked, flashing her a grin, then his face faltered as he realized that all but one of those previous – tenants – were in fact, dead.

"Really, Fred?" queried George, clasping a hand to his brothers shoulder, sounding a bit harder than Hermione felt was necessary.

She gave Fred's hand a squeeze in support and comfort. She knew how much the twins looked up to the Mauraders, as their pranking heroes, and she too felt a Sirius-sized hole in her own heart.

She followed behind the twins down the rest of the corridor, coming to rest directly between them as they stood just outside the door with the escaping glow. She felt anticipation coiling in her gut, and felt her fingernails of her free hand dig into her palm.

"Moment of truth, _Hermione_ ," Fred whispered, letting go of her hand, before George pushed open the door and stepped back to let her through, revealing the room beyond.

Hermione gasped at the sight in front of her – then burst into stunned delighted peals of laughter as she all but flew into the room, her eyes darting around to take it all in. Glancing back quickly, she noticed the twins exchange pleased and _relieved_ glances at her reaction.

The room she entered had been _completely_ redone from the condition and designation it had been given years before; if she hadn't apparated into what had originally been a 'sitting area' below, she'd have _never_ known the building they were in was the shrieking shack based on this room.

The floor, which should have been rotting and dilapidated wood slats, had been repaired and was now polished and slick solid oak. The walls, instead of mimicking the sorry state of those in the remainder of the shack, had been clad in wallpaper in various tones of warm gold and red. Various pillar-candle sconces, their wicks lit and flickering merrily, were situated around the room; their illumination responsible for the soft glow she'd seen under the door in the hallway. Every nook and cranny appeared to have been thoroughly scourgified – no spiders or other unwanted creatures inhabited this space.

The amount of furniture in the room was impressive, considering the lack of adequate square footage – she was impressed by not only the layout – but also the amount they had been able to fit in without it feeling stuffy or off-scale. Matching sideboard tables were situated on each side of the room, flanking three _extremely_ comfortable looking armchairs located in the center of the space. Each chair was positioned at the point of an invisible triangle – giving each occupant an _equal_ and balanced viewpoint of the others and to a round wooden table that sat between them in the middle – accessible to all chairs equally and which currently held a veritable feast of crackers, cheeses, meats and other delectable sweets and fruits along with three plates.

Her stomach rumbled at the food laid out, it had been hours since breakfast, and she hadn't really eaten due to nerves even then.

But as appreciative as she was towards the rest of the space, what had caused her to laugh, what had drawn her delight and caused any residual anxiety to flee completely – was the large, beautifully detailed and _extremely full_ bookshelf situated along the back wall – a bookshelf she _knew_ had never existed in any area of this building previously. The bookshelf was divided into three equal sections, and each was stocked full of thick tomes of various ages and states of appearance.

A bookshelf, upon moving closer, she saw – was full of not only her course books – but those she had never even _heard_ of before. There were books on layering charms, mixing transfiguration with spells and on potions. There were books on curses, hexes, muggle inventions and muggle scientific theories. There were books that… she had to wrench her eyes away from their sporadic dance along the shelves before she literally began to salivate. This bookshelf appeared to contain a blend of _all_ their interests, and she knew _this_ – more than even the altering of the wards or the renovations to the room and landing – would have taken thought, galleons and massive amounts of _time_ to accomplish.

She _loved_ the room. If she had asked the room of requirement to create a space perfect for relaxing, _this_ would be what appeared. She was thoroughly touched by the work they'd done to create this wonderful space. The fact they'd done all this in the span of less than two weeks really worked its way into her heart.

Her back still turned on Fred and George – still facing the ornate bookshelf – Hermione felt hot tears prick the corners of her eyes. She felt overwhelmed and slightly dwarfed by the magnitude of this gift, by the whole set up. They continued to _shatter_ her expectations, and she was beginning to realize that the twins she had exchanged correspondence and slight bantering sessions with, the twins she had completely fallen for even before this date, had many more layers than most were aware of – herself included.

They obviously cared about _her_ , and had gone out of their way to demonstrate that in the most direct manner possible – a manner directly personal to _her_. That they'd cared enough to compile this massive literary resource and that for their first date to set the room in a library environment rather than a seductive ambiance, made her heart ache with happiness.

They were entering into uncharted waters of their acquaintance, and given that the assumed _logical_ progression would be for them to become physical at _some_ stage – a stage she _definitely_ was looking forward to, and _very_ keen to explore – the fact that there was no sofa or bed or any other seductively purposeful setup; it showed her they had no presumptions and respected her enough not to rush or push whatever was developing between them.

They were letting _her_ set the tone, though their innocuous communications the previous week coupled with this room demonstrated to her the _depth_ of their interest. And it was an interest that _clearly_ was not just surface level, and she would assume by just looking around to _not_ be fleeting. Furniture, wall treatments – those could be transfigured at the flick of a wand and changed on a whim. But _books_ … Books, they were _permanence_.

This undertaking of theirs – the detailed dedication they showed to this room and to arranging the ward manipulations – demonstrated to her that they desired _this_ to be their meeting place. Their _continued_ meeting place, at least while she was in school. And it demonstrated also, that it was a place they could come together intellectually as well – the equal positioning of the chairs, the _round_ table; the massive three-sectioned bookshelf.

It wasn't just a place she could visit to study in, it was a place Fred and George could also retreat to, to create or theorize if they so desired, a place that hinted at possible collaborations. It never stopped surprising her, how they continued to appreciate her intelligence – fostering and embracing instead of attempting to suppress or contain.

She wiped at her eyes quickly, not wanting to give them the wrong idea if they saw her tears, and turned around to face the two _wonderful_ wizards who were now standing somewhat apprehensively behind where she stood, having followed her into the room.

"Does this…"

"Please you?" Fred, then George, asked in hopeful tentativeness – tones so out of character, that it spurred her to act instead of speak.

Hermione stared at them for a poignantly silent half-moment – before launching herself at them.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, her hands threading through his hair and guiding his face to hers, Hermione's lips found Fred's in a crushing, enthusiastic kiss.

Before Fred could fully comprehend what was happening, before his hands could even reach out to hold her, she'd disengaged her lips from his and moved to George, who – after watching her brief assault on his brother's mouth – was more prepared for her and had already bent his head down to taste her when she crashed her lips to his.

After a few enjoyable seconds, she pulled back, happily regarding the stunned expressions on their faces at her response to their tentative question. She let out a throaty giggle as their looks slid into ones of confounded bliss, and felt the familiar sense of feminine power wash over her.

She was pleased to note that, at least on her end, the chemistry she'd felt in the dream between them was real – it wasn't a manifestation or wishful thought. And judging by their faces, she assumed the chemistry was felt on their ends as well.

"I take it," Fred said heartily, reaching out to wipe away an errant tear she'd apparently missed at the corner of her eye, his eyes blazing with unfettered heat.

"That's a yes." George said triumphantly, grinning and staring at her mouth.

"That's an absolutely resounding _yes_." Hermione stated. She licked her lips – she saw both wizards take note of this action – and cleared her throat.

"Right, so… that was –"

"Brilliant?" cut off Fred.

"Something we should do again?" stated George, making to reach for her again, a smirk teasing the corners of his mouth.

"Definitely!" Hermione said emphatically, nodding and biting her lip in anticipation, but remaining free of George's attempted embrace lest she become distracted from her immediate goals.

Though glancing to the side, she saw Fred absently reach out and run his fingers down along the spine of the closest book as he glanced intensely back at her. She shuddered, and noticed his eyebrow twitch in acknowledgment at his effect on her. Seeing his fingers caress the leather bound spine caused a warmth to pool inside her belly; caused her to wonder what his fingers would feel like running up and down _her_ spine like that.

Giving herself a mental shake, she continued what she had been saying before she'd been thoroughly distracted.

"Definitely brilliant; definitely something we should do again." She reiterated. "But, well, before that – I'm thinking we need… to talk… shall we?" With that, she turned, linked her arms through theirs and they made their way to the chairs situated in the middle of the room.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

Once they were settled in the _incredibly_ comfortable armchairs – Fred in the chair to her right, George to her left – Hermione looked from one brother to the other. They'd hung their cloaks over the side wingbacks of their respective chairs, and as it was now fully past time for lunch, they filled plates with food from the round table before settling into relaxed and contented positions.

She'd tucked her legs up and under her, balancing her plate on her lap while sitting comfortably crossed legged in the oversized wingchair. Each of the twins had made themselves at ease in their own way. Fred had both feet on the floor, his body angled towards her with his arms resting on his knees and his plate remaining on the round table. George appearing more laid back, his body angled across the width of his chair, one leg crossed, the ankle resting on the opposite knee and his plate of food also sitting in his lap.

"Well, _Ms. Granger_ , you've called this meeting. What order of business do you wish to discuss first…" Said George audaciously, quirking his eyebrow as Fred continued.

"Though _may_ I say, before we begin, you look absolutely smashing today _Ms. Granger_." Fred drawled appreciatively.

"Positively exquisite…" Affirmed George.

Hermione laughed at how, now that they were sitting, eating and the ice had been effectively broken between them, they were treating their conversation in a lighthearted business fashion, effectively putting the sexual tension on ice for the moment.

Though it did something to her – sent shivers down her spine in a delightfully thrilling manner – to hear _Ms. Granger_ fall off their tongues. She wondered if they knew the effect that title, in their voices, had on her.

Keeping in the same vein of lighthearted banter, she began by addressing them in kind.

"First, thank _you,_ Mr. and Mr. Weasley, for such _delightful_ compliments. You both clean up pretty spectacularly yourselves. Almost _delectable_ enough to compete with this fantastic spread here," she waved her hand to encompass the remaining food laid out on the table.

' _They really do look amazing,'_ she internally salivated, realizing she hadn't really paid attention to their attire before this point with everything going on since they'd arrived. _'And it's all for me…'_

They each wore dark trousers, Fred with a black collared shirt under his dragon hide jacket; George a deep burgundy button up under a black wool jumper. The contrast of textures made her fingers itch to touch them both, to explore their contours under the varying fabrics.

' _Focus,'_ she admonished herself, bringing her attention from appreciating their appearance and thoughts of her travelling fingers and back to their conversation at hand.

"Secondly," She said, bringing her attentions once again back to their conversation. She _really_ needed to stop letting her imagination run away from her, especially since the subject of her mental wanderings were sitting right in front of her. "I am finding it incredibly _challenging_ coming up with adjectives that describe just how _touched_ I am with the incredibly memorable location for our first date. Which, to be clear, I am _definitely_ considering this to be our first date."

"Us too, _Hermione_ ," the twins chorused immediately and simultaneously, shifting back to her first name, causing her heart to skip a beat in happiness at their ready agreeance.

"This room, the work around the wards… it's… I'm speechless! I'm just..." Hermione sputtered, disliking how her typically extensive vocabulary should desert her now, and wishing she could convey to them what their preparations meant to her.

"I hope our intent is apparent that this can be _our_ meeting place – a safe, private, _consistent_ meeting place – for as long as you're in Hogwarts." Said Fred. "We've worked out any issues with the wards, and Dumbledore will be none the wiser to the shacks occasional occupants."

"How…"

"Well, it did take a bit of planning, finessing and charm – " began Fred.

"Of which we have in abundance. First, we went and visited Ab down in the Hog's Head, to discuss the types of wards Dumbledore would typically use as well as to ply anything else out about his brother that may be advantageous to know." Said George, adjusting himself in his chair and nibbling on a piece of cheddar.

"Despite not being on the best of terms with his brother, they are still in contact through the Order. We had to supply Aberforth with _numerous_ WWW products to ensure his secrecy and compliance, but it was _well worth_ the dent in our bottom line." Fred deadpanned, then flashed her a grin that had her mouth mirroring one in return.

"After chatting with Ab, we moved onto subtly peppering Remus with questions about this place, wanting to discern everything we could about the Shrieking Shack to ensure this place could still support clandestine meetings, of a non-furry nature." George continued, popping a grape into his mouth, a gesture that caused Hermione to fixate on his lips as they chewed.

"He didn't ask any questions, in fact – he seemed to be clearly holding himself back from asking anything that would lead to incriminating knowledge – but it's safe to assume he believes our desire to use the space revolves around either secret liaisons with a Hogwarts student or business purposes, as we weren't exactly subtle regarding questions pertaining to the passageway to the grounds." Fred said, chuckling.

Hermione could imagine Remus's internal struggle – his role as a responsible Order member versus the ever present Marauder spirit. It made sense he'd want to assist in their knowledge reconnaissance without getting into the details that could force his conscience to reveal their purposes to Dumbledore –especially if a Hogwarts student was involved.

"But, as he didn't pry and we didn't inform him of the true intent other than interest in the passageway and details regarding the security of the shack itself… He may very well be under the impression we're running a covert line to our shop through here…" said George. "Then, once we had his information, we went – hat in hand and with practiced humility – and sought Bill's council as he's the best curse breaker we know."

"And he's family, which makes him free and discrete." Fred said with a wink at George.

"Bill knows? About you meeting _me_ here? Or just that you needed a secure place for _yourselves_?" Hermione asked, a bit surprised that he would be the person they'd confide in, but realizing it also made a weird sort of sense. She knew Bill was one of a handful of people, save for the marauders and Ginny, who could influence the twin's behavior. She was relieved they had someone they could confide in outside themselves. She knew how invaluable having Ginny to talk to was and was thankful they had support like that themselves.

"Full disclosure, before you go on. I told Ginny about everything between us so far, which – before you say anything – I am _extremely_ grateful she knows! And _you'll_ be thankful she does too, as we have her full support and future assistance if needed. She's actually assisting in keeping Harry and Ron busy while we meet _today_ , and is even _more_ talented at improvisation than _you_ two – which is how she found out about us..."

Fred and George exchanged astonished gazes. "Ginny… is on board with _this_?" George asked, appearing a tad dumbfounded at the possibility of his baby sister being aware of their romantic and sexual inclinations. She found it laughable that they, of all people, should appear scandalized that their sister would have knowledge of their intentions, of _hers_.

"And surely you _jest_ that she's better at improvisation than _us_?" Fred looked highly affronted at this possibility.

"I _think_ ," Hermione began diplomatically, playing with the food remaining on her plate as she chose her words carefully, "You need to stop thinking about her as your _little_ sister – who needs protection – and start looking at her as person who has shouldered _more_ than most know or deign to remember; and yet is still an amazingly resilient firecracker, friend, and witch. At 11, your sister fought off possession by Tom Riddle for almost a year, with is more than even Harry's been able to claim achievement of. She has more internal strength than someone her age or size portrays. She will bend rules to her whim to achieve desired outcomes for those she love's or cares for, and she went so far as to secretly steal your brooms for _years_ to practice a sport she loved, a sport she was told she was too young or _female_ for. Couple that with the fact she's _extremely_ loyal, and not at _all_ hung up on traditions and convention - she is the absolutely the _best_ person to have in your corner. She's even assured me she'll help with your mum come time."

The twins were silent for a beat before George said contritely.

"Wow! I… thanks Hermione. You're spot on..."

"We needed to hear… need to adjust our views… on _many_ levels apparently. We failed her… It was _our_ job. Well, new beginnings all around. We should send Ginny a deluxe box of WWW products Georgie, in thanks, for more than just _this_..." Fred said.

"Absolutely!" said George. "And yes, Hermione, Bill _knows_ , in similar fashion, I assume, to what Ginny does. And you will be interested to know he became _incredibly_ defensive and protective about you, before dropping the big brother act and assisting us with breaking the wards."

"The big brother act was directed towards _you_ , not us, just so you're aware! Apparently, we are on our own to care for ourselves… but he fully supports the use of your wand against us if we cross you." clarified Fred, looking a bit amused that his brother's loyalty was with her, not them.

Hermione laughed, touched that Bill would think to look out for her, considering she'd barely had opportunities to speak with him over the years, and that he also acknowledged her wand talents.

"Bill had no qualms about breaking the wards for us – in fact, he looked at it as a personal point of pride that he was able to secretly rework and adjust the wards of the great Albus Dumbledore. Bill's our role model – respectably classy with a rebel heart. He's this generation's original Weasley marauder, and as such, embraced this challenge with enthusiasm. Plus, on a personal front, his fiancé is seven years his junior and _French_ – a fiance mum isn't _thrilled_ about joining our family – so he is fully supportive of non-convention as long as it makes us, and you, happy." Said George.

"And if _this_ takes the heat off him and Fleur and redirects it onto us for a while, all the better in his opinion." Said Fred with a roughish smile. "Don't go getting the idea he's completely altruistic."

"So once the wards were adjusted, and we assured ourselves of the privacy and security that would put your fears of scholastic repercussions should you be caught at ease, we set about making this a place you'd _want_ to visit, to spend extended time in. Present company aside – as that's a given." George said with a grin.

"We figure with Harry's map and cloak, you will be able to access the shack via the hidden tunnel without having to risk leaving Hogwarts as you did today. We've developed a product – similar to the decoy detonator – that will only work for you and will stealthily manoeuver to push the knob under the whomping willow so you won't be maimed or worse. You can come and go to this… retreat… as you wish, regardless if we have arranged a meeting or not, but we'd request it if you can please refrain from bringing anyone else, even Ginny."

"Of course! This is ours… _only_ ours…" Hermione agreed. She hadn't even thought to bring another person here. This was sacred. This space was their gift to her, and her discretion and respect would be hers to them.

Fred continued, "And when we visit here, we will apparate directly to this room – Bill adjusted the wards for the entire shack for today _only_ – anything more for the entire building and our secret becomes harder to contain to anyone watching the wards – so going forward, the only apparition point will be in _this_ room. Bill's also made the room un-plottable, and added various other repelling and concealment charms for anyone other than the three of us, should anyone happen to venture into this shack. This room would look like a dilapidated broom closet to anyone outside the three of us and even if we are currently present here; no one would sense, see or hear us. These extra security measures were due to the uncertain times in our world and was Bill's gift to us and you."

"We ultimately didn't want to adjust the entire shack's wards past today's date, as we don't want Dumbledore to be alerted or take interest in why the shack suddenly has regular visitors." George emphasised, and Hermione felt elated at how detailed their set up and planning was, how thoroughly they cared for her safety and ability to meet up without her having to break too many rules or risk scholastic consequences.

"You've captured my _perfect_ relaxation setting perfectly," Hermione blurted out, wanting to once again try and capture for them how perfect everything was. "The lighting, the chairs, the redecoration from decrepit to inhabitable, the lunch spread – I appreciate how you've attempted to make everything balanced and equal in the layout of the room – and the _bookshelf_ …" she shot them both direct glances, that seemed to spear them to their seats with its intensity. "You _do_ realize that books are the _ultimate_ gift you could ever give to me right? A book is worth _more_ to me than _jewelry_ is to most women... more sacred and valued…"

"We _did_ realize, after years of observing you Hermione, that books _might_ be important to you." Fred said cheekily.

"Which is why we went that extra mile, we knew you'd immediately understand the depth of your importance to us. We want you to be comfortable here, and since corresponding, we've quite enjoyed bouncing ideas off you about our products or business ideas. We wanted this to be a place we could connect with you, not just on a romantic level, but intellectually as well." George said gently.

"A place to explore _all_ our passions." Fred murmured. "Which is why, at a moment's whim, everything _but_ the bookshelf and its contents can be transfigured however we desire – into whatever furniture configuration we require… The bookshelf, however, has a stasis charm set upon it, along with the books – one that even a finite spell won't affect."

Hermione beamed at the lengths they'd gone to, to secure the books and literary gold mine that she couldn't wait to delve into at another day and time.

"On _that_ note, I want to thank you for the Daydream Charm, and everything you did to make that experience as remarkable and memorable as it was for me – advising me to find a private space – it truly _is_ brilliant magic! You are both _extremely_ talented, and despite how you got your start and the headaches you gave me last year…"

She held up a hand to stifle the rebuttals she could see forming at the tips of their tongues, and sat up straight in her chair – looking every inch the prefect she was. "No, I _won't_ apologize for everything I said last year regarding your marketing and product testing… I was a _new_ prefect and was doing what I was _tasked_ to do. Shame about your brother's attitude, if he'd done his duty as _expected_ , I wouldn't have had to come down as hard on you _myself_... But, since delving into trying your products myself, I must say, _never_ would I have _ever_ expected _this_ to be the outcome of utilizing one of your products… though I'm _quite_ elated it is."

She was pleased to note the slight tinge of pink that ghosted their necks and cheeks at that last comment, though she saw them exchange exasperated looks and familiar looks of frustration appear on their faces at the rest of her comment.

She ducked her gaze, not liking the expressions she read across from her. She supposed their exasperation stemmed from being ex-students, full-blown successful businessmen, and respected members of society. And _she_ , well – she _was_ still a prefect – a prefect currently not _where_ she was supposed to be, with _whom_ she wasn't supposed to be with, and at any given time possibly engaging with those she was keeping company in _activities_ not appropriate for a prefect. She sighed, her shoulders dropping. She did so _abhor_ it when her behavior was highlighted as being hypocritical – apologizing never tasted well on her tongue.

She looked up, and noticed the twins were now smirking at her.

"Caught on, did you?" Fred cheeked.

"A bit pot and kettle situation, dare I say?" chimed in George.

"Tsk, alright _alright_. I _apologize_ for being… so… _well_ , for being so nosy and bossy during your last year with regards to your business, and _especially_ for threatening to involve your mother as leverage for you towing the line."

They all shuddered as they contemplated what she'd say about their involvement with her in _this_ situation...

"Though I _don't_ apologize for trying to protect the younger students; one of whom could have been seriously hurt!" She rushed out the last bit, her jaw jutting out in defensive mutiny. Fred sighed again in exasperation, and George leaned forward.

"In the _interest_ of moving this…" George motioned between them, "Onward, and not stall out in past transgressions – "

"We will respectfully decline to discuss said _prefect's_ behavior in all past dealings with our business, save for the _fortuitous_ one that brought about these _lovely_ events that are unfolding as we speak." Fred said.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but nodded her agreeance to let bygones be bygones in this respect.

"Now that we've put to bed the past _un_ - _pleasantries_ ; back to the tantalizing matter at hand. One day, Hermione, we'd appreciate it…" George stated.

"If you would be so kind as to enlighten us as to what _exactly_ spurred you on to pen your first letter to us," Fred requested.

"Your letter was quite – _intriguing_ – and we really _would_ hate for you to be left…"

" _Greatly bereft_ , as it sounds like you were…" Fred licked his lips, his eyes shifting to half opened slits as he slid his gaze over her body. He appeared like a cat ready to pounce and her stomach coiled in anticipation.

She felt herself heat up under the fire in his gaze, and she found she couldn't look away.

"You were right Fred," George murmured, his slightly frustrated tone seeming to jolt Fred as it causing him to shake his head and shoot her a surprisingly apologetic glance.

"Right about what?" asked Hermione, a bit confused as to why Fred would go from smoldering to tepid in seconds flat at George's words.

"How hard it would be to keep things – on the level, shall we say – at least, until we've discussed everything and are all on the same page…" Fred answered, running a hand down his face and flopping back against his chair.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **A/N: Again, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. To all those enjoying the story enough to follow or favorite, I'm so glad you're liking this and would love to hear your thoughts about the story so far!**

 **Feel free to find me on tumblr (where I spend a lot of my time and am easy to get a hold of to ask questions or chat about everything and nothing). User name is: gidgit2you.**

 **Up next, the trio explore the depth of their feelings ~G**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer** :

The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and Scholastic. All canon characters, plots, quotes and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

 **Rating warning** :

Rated M for scenes of inferred and of a potentially explicit sexual nature.

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 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **Chapter 6**

As Fred sighed and flung himself back against the seat cushion, swiping his long fingered hands down his face before raking them through his hair; George turned towards Hermione.

"What we _mean_ , Hermione, is that now that we're all here – together – there are some things we should probably clear up and discuss; so we're all on the same page and there's no confusion about any of _this_... Then we can go back to just enjoying each other's company and engaging in mutually pleasurable activities." George said, quirking his mouth into a reassuring grin.

"O- _kay_ …" Hermione drew out the word, confused as to what could possibly be so serious or unclear that it truncated their playful flirtations.

She could tell whatever they needed to get off their chests was deeply important to them, as their voices had adopted a serious tone she'd only heard one time before – when she'd arrived at Grimmauld Place last Christmas, after their dad had been attacked. Realizing this, she sat up straighter in her chair and focused her attention on the two wizards in front of her; waiting for them to continue.

"You _may_ or may not have discerned our… interest – our _mutual_ interest – that day in the store, then from our various letters." Fred began affectionately, looking steadily across at her from his position in his chair.

"Interest we only _truly_ felt comfortable and confident openly expressing to you, after reading yourfirst letter – where you described _sampling_ the two wizards – wizards who lavished attention on you, enough for you to become putty in _their_ hands. We figured the _only_ reason you'd put _that_ onto parchment; instead of just writing us a benign product review," George stated, and she nodded.

"Or _really_ , no review at all," cut in Fred.

"Was to let us know your _own_ interest – in _both_ of us." George finished off.

"That's correct. I couldn't _not_ let you know how I felt…after I'd fully realized it… For my own sake." Hermione murmured, still a bit confused. Had her kisses, her affections towards them been misleading in any way to require this conversation?

"And then, from there; our… preparations for our… extra-curricular activities… today." continued Fred.

"We hope it's apparent how much you mean to _both_ of us…" Finished George.

"I _had_ noticed a slight… change, in both your behavior towards me that day in the store." She agreed, thinking back. "You were more attentive – _exclusively_ attentive – and almost personally concerned that I have an _enjoyable_ and non-humiliating experience with your product. Plus, catching you both staring at me as I left the store, sending me away with that _wink_ … I must admit it tugged at something inside me and made me curious. _Definitely_ peaked my interest. And your _letters_ …"

She shook her head and bit her lip in remembrance, hearing George suck in his breath as she did. "Your first reply letter had me fanning myself it was so… _intense_ , and made me itch to see you and hold you to your words immediately. But the rest, our continued correspondence… well, _they_ are what sealed _this_ for me." She moved her hand in a circular fashion to encompass the three of them. "Those messages… I don't think you truly understand how much you _listening_ to my random or off-hand comments means to me. I mean, _muggle toothbrushes_?" She sighed contentedly, the twins exchanging proud grins at the sound. "It took everything I possessed not to swoon right at the table; almost completely lost the plot, as who swoons from a congratulatory note from their _parents_?"

She smiled reminiscently at them as the recent memory resurfaced, the feeling of awe that they remembered and took to heart her off-hand murmurings returning and causing warmth to spread through her.

"I don't know _when_ my feelings started to progress into a more romantic direction, though I know it definitely _wasn't_ overnight and _wasn't_ as a result of the Daydream Charm's abilities, though that... experience really did help – _clarify_ – things for me... Brought a lot to the surface. And as I said, getting to know _you_ deeper through your letters sealed my attraction completely."

She looked exasperatedly from one twin to the other, her confusion molting into complete bewilderment as to where they were going with this conversation. "But… I don't understand… Did I miss something in the last ten minutes? Why are we needing to discuss this?"

Fred and George exchanged nervous and pained glances as she continued.

"Haven't I made myself clear, through the fact I wrote you _together_ , in _one_ letter; and how I've acted today – Merlin, even breaking _school_ _rules_ to come meet you – that I fancy the pants off you _both_? _That's_ why I charmed my first parchment, so that you _both_ had to read it. So you _each_ knew where I stood – or could at least _infer_ , as I didn't want to lay it out too plainly lest you not return the sentiments – so neither… would be left in the dark..." Her eyes widened as she spoke, and her stomach dropped as she understood why Fred and George looked so nervous.

She sighed, realizing as her words trailed off that they _hadn't_ discussed any of this yet, that this was new territory for them – their preliminary heady and then subsequently innocuous correspondence had created such intimate glimpses into their mutual awareness – that she'd forgotten they'd purposefully put off having this conversation until they were face to face.

Seeing as she hadn't explained her intents and means of awareness until now, they probably _didn't_ comprehend _why_ she wanted them both and not separately. She knew she had questions about _them_ herself, and now that her brain had caught up to the atmosphere in the room, she appreciated where their line of questioning had arisen – curious insecurities. She greatly recognized and understood that emotion and position, and hastened to reassure.

"Fred, George – I would rather not date _either_ of you, than cause a rift between you if one liked me and the other didn't. Or, say you _both_ did, but didn't want to _share_ – since I've been open about liking and wanting you _both_. It's not _either or_ for me – I want _each_ of you…as you are… but all of us _together_."

"We can assure you, Hermione; that we are _definitely_ both interested, and agreeable to sharing you between us – but _only_ with each other, no one else." Fred said, both he and George nodding in tandem agreement as Fred spoke.

"I don't _want_ anyone else. I wouldn't be _here_ if I did." She stated firmly, looking to each of them in turn, directly in the eye. She hoped they could read her raw blatant intent – she knew her face at the moment was as open a book as she could make it. Fred and George both seemed to relax a bit at her blunt statement and facial expression; which made her wonder if the fact she wanted _both_ of them hadn't made them wonder if she had _other_ potential suitorson the side as well.

She almost laughed at the absurdity of this thought – she knew she was an overachiever, but still… that _would_ be beyond the pale, at least for her own sensibilities – but restrained herself – realizing laughter would misconstrue her true feelings and be completely inappropriate to the moment.

"There's no one else." She stated resolutely. "There used to be, but that ended almost a year ago. I want this. Now. I want _you_."

The twins exchanged glances, those glances she still couldn't decipher yet, before leaning forward; angling their bodies towards her. Their postures still held taut with suspense and what appeared to be nerves.

"As we were beginning to establish ourselves professionally," George began, "We really couldn't be fussed to put in the effort needed to discover, develop and maintain relationships of a romantic nature. Sounds blunt and crass, but _dating_ , being there _emotionally_ for another – when our hearts were elsewhere – it wasn't where our interests or time allowances lay." Said George.

Hermione felt a hot flash of jealousy at hearing their hearts had lain elsewhere – regardless of her own romantic history – and this discovery made her feel vulnerable; despite their current attentions and obvious interest.

"Which left relationships of a purely _physical_ nature – but, as those can become quite… disastrous…"

"Calamitous…"

"Or tedious to navigate… we didn't want any antics or dalliances to potentially come back and bite us in the arse. So we stayed away from any romantic or sexual entanglements in the wizarding world. Thus you, nor anyone else, heard even a _whisper_ of our proclivities or activities. We never even dated in school, save for taking a few witches to the Yule Ball. We, to the outside general Wizarding public, appear as nothing more than diligent, charming and work-focused businessmen. Which is the perception we purposefully cultivated and work diligently to bolster and maintain." Said Fred.

"Just as I've continued to cultivate the 'bookworm, know-it-all muggle born prefect' persona; poster child of virtue and propriety _despite_ no one really having a _clue_ if that's true or not." Hermione murmured. "Didn't want to rock the boat or topple the society-imposed pedestal they've erected for me, for a whim or flighty fancy; a pedestal erected just for being scholastically inclined and a diligent embracer of… _most_ rules."

The twins nodded in what appeared to be appreciation, understanding and blatant curiosity of her words.

"This was our way of living, of operating." Said George.

"Until now – until you. Until you… with _us_." said Fred, leaning forward in his chair, chewing on his lips with what appeared to be anticipation.

She was drawn to his lips like a moth to a flame. She could still feel the pressure of their brief earlier kiss lingering on her lips as she stared at his mouth – the flash of teeth as it bit down on reddened flesh, the dart of a moist tongue sweeping up and against his upper lip. She shivered… tearing her eyes from the tantalizing movements and flicking her glance over at George. He was staring at her with open hunger and need. Her visual fixation on Fred's mouth seemed to have apparently triggered a visceral response in him, and as she stared into George's eyes, she felt the bottom drop from her stomach at her own reaction to his gaze.

Bringing her gaze back once more to Fred, she saw he'd stopped biting his lip, and was now staring at her with a roguish smirk – as if he'd read all the wicked thoughts that had run through her mind at what she wished those lips, tongue and teeth could do to her…

Hermione refused to allow either twin to outwardly fluster her – though she could feel her _own_ face heating with building desire – and so did the only thing she could think of in that moment – she channeled Peeves and blew Fred a smacking loud raspberry and fluttered her lashes comically at him, then George, in the soppiest display of caricatured affection she could muster.

Fred, after an appalled beat of surprise, burst into laughter followed by the George; breaking the mounting tension she'd felt build between them. There were still topics of discussion to be had, things to sort out, and time remaining for today's date was running low. She'd have to head back to school soon so as not to arouse suspicions, and she wanted to leave feeling secure in where they were headed and in what they were to each other.

By this time, they'd all finished their plates of food and were lounging comfortably, with sated bellies, in the overstuffed armchairs.

Hermione contemplated how to phrase the main question that had been simmering since she'd had her encounter with the twins in their store. Since their first round of correspondence. Her mouth opened and closed several times, flapping like a grounded trout; as she struggled to find the words, the _right_ phrasing.

"Out with it Hermione, no need to be shy. You can ask _anything_ you want." Said Fred, a slight frown appearing between his eyes at her silent struggle.

"We are open books to you." George murmured encouragingly.

Books. Permanence. Intents and desires…

"Why me?" Hermione blurted out. "What made you interested in _me_? I've told you I had an _inkling_ of _something_ simmering between us in the store, but as we've never really exchanged more than a handful of sentences throughout the years, and have never really spent any time together other than at the Burrow with your family, and now that you've moved out – I really wasn't sure if your charming personas were _personally_ directed despite the individual nature, or standard customer treatment – and even though you've now clarified that, there must be _loads_ of girls out there… muggle or otherwise… who'd _love_ to be the candy on your arm, or at the _tip_ of your triangle. Why are you choosing _me_?" Her words ran together in a long string of syllables, leaving her gasping for breath at the end as she rushed to get them all out, her voice all but whispering at the end.

' _So much for the subtle and cool approach,'_ she thought to herself exasperatedly as she waited for their answer.

" _Breathe_ Hermione." Chuckled Fred, licking his lips; seeming to relax and a smug grin to appear as he saw her eyes target and lock on his mouth, his tongue flicking out to lick them once more before continuing. "All valid questions..."

Pausing a beat, Fred reached forward, across the table and took her hand. His long nimble fingers playing with hers as he started answering her longwinded question.

"The year of the tournament, there was a witch I had been admiring from afar, who I wished to take to the Yule Ball. Alas, someone had more courage and timing, and asked her first, much to my disappointment. Now, this witch had captured my attention from her first year, but only as a friendly acquaintance. It wasn't until _after_ I found out she'd been allowed a time tuner in her _third_ year – and had been using it – not for pranks and hilarity as any _normal_ person would, but for schoolwork and to _ultimately_ save two lives."

Hermione gasped, but Fred continued without pause in his story. "Finding out she'd gone toe to toe with a then-suspected murderer, faced down a transformed werewolf, and risked life and limb to save said 'recently-suspected-but-actually-innocent' convict and a hippogriff slated for execution; was the day she stopped being _just_ my ickle brother's friend and became someone of interest in my _own_ eyes..." Fred gazed at her with eyes that spoke volumes more than even his words conveyed.

At Fred's declaration, George rolled up his sleeves, readjusting his position in the chair.

Hermione found her attention momentarily drifting as she stared at the fluid lines of Quidditch honed muscles threading up his forearm, a forearm that contracted in a tantalizing manner as he used them to leverage his body up while he adjusted his seating position, then as he briefly stretched and rotated his arms out in front of him. She felt her mouth go dry as the urge to run her tongue along those lines grew stronger.

It was one thing to have experienced her subconscious version of the twins in her dream, it was another to view them in reality. And these sporadic teases she was treated to were doing nothing but whetting her already voracious appetite for the two sitting across from her. She had already been looking forward to having this conversation over and done with, everything laid out – so to speak – on the table, but now… she was especially impatient...

" _Oi_ , eyes up here Granger," said George, motioning with his hands that were attached to his _wonderful_ arms up to his face, pointing to eyes that were crinkled at the corners from smirking at how her mind had become distracted – yet again.

" _Really_ Hermione, here we are, baring our _souls_ and you can't be bothered to stop drooling…" cheeked Fred, huffing theatrically, though neither of them appeared to be put out by her wandering thoughts in the slightest. Instead, if she could attempt to articulate the expressions they both wore, she'd think it was… proud…

George raked his hand through his hair – she studiously avoided staring lest her mind wander yet again – leaned forward and confided. "My intended date for the Yule ball was also asked before I could rustle up the nerve."

"Didn't you go to the ball with two witches?" Hermione asked, scrunching her noes as she tried to recall who George had gone with.

" _Splendid_ recall abilities, Ms. Granger. That is correct. And missing my opportunity with the witch I desired was the reason I asked two _friends_ to the ball instead of the girl I fancied. For me, I became interested in my witch during her fourth year, prior to the announcement of the ball, back when she helped the Gryffindor champion learn the conjuring spell – despite it being strictly _against the rules_ to assist them – and her constant support to her friend, especially in the face of our dear brother becoming a jealous git and despite it being an _extremely_ unpopular position and one that made her a target… Well, her unwavering loyalty, her ability to withstand that which would send another witch running. It did something to me…" Hermione's eyes blazed with restrained emotion, as she realized George was also describing her.

"So we sat and pined and then our silly crushes took a back seat to the events of our sixth year and the fall out of the tournament. When we _did_ get around to chatting with each other about why either of us didn't seem interested in any of the girls at school, well, turned out, we were interested in the same witch. It wasn't until we'd confided our feelings to each other during our first term of seventh year – just before we left Hogwarts after Dad's attack – that we realized our overlapping interests."

Hermione was speechless. Even though they described "a witch," she was _distinctly_ aware it was _her_ they were describing. She figured it must be easier for them if they distanced themselves a tad while delving into their recollections, as it _was_ extremely vulnerable, raw and personal. She'd had no idea _either_ of the twins had harboured feelings towards her, let along for as long as they were mentioning. It was a tad overwhelming to have had her movements, actions and _being_ , analyzed in depth without her notice.

"Why didn't you say anything, _hint_ towards anything before now…?" she whispered curiously.

"Well, _first_ , this witch was very busy helping her friend continually make it through the tournament that was meant to literally _kill_ him. That alone would have made us keep our distance, so as not to be a possible distraction." Began George.

"Also, she had a boyfriend, or at least, after the ball we were quite _certain_ she had a boyfriend, and she seemed _content_ when she arrived at the Burrow for the summer following – walking around with secret smiles and rolls upon rolls of parchments spelled against all but the recipient." said Fred.

"We _know_ , because we tried reading one." Said George sheepishly, pulling back slightly at her exasperated glare at his admission.

"You Weasleys', you have _no_ respect for one's privacy!" She said indignantly, remembering Ginny's own confession to her earlier last week.

"And then," continued Fred hurriedly, "when we later realized the witch we both were pining for _separately_ was the _same_ , well, this was new territory for us – we had to sort our own house first before even entertaining the thought of opening doors and windows, of inviting guests in."

"Now, instead of being worried about being teased by the other – as the witch in question was slightly just over a year younger than us, and in our brother's class – or leaving the other behind if we pursued our _own_ interest in this fascinating girl; we were now aware of a much more challenging issue. Do we _both_ pursue her, and let the best man win – even if it ended up being neither of us as she obviously had final say over her own preferences? Could we live with possibly leaving the other behind…?"

George trailed off and Hermione's heart ached for these two wizards who – to the world, appeared as one cohesive unit, almost one person – but his words demonstrated clearly their strong individuality; who cared enough about each other to _never_ want the other to feel abandoned. Even if that meant sacrificing something for their brother's happiness; they had each other's backs. And to her, nothing could be more _attractive_ than their loyalty to one another.

' _Well… some things definitely could be…'_ she mused, mentally fanning herself remembering their earlier banter, and thoughts of lips, teeth and strongly defined forearms made their way to the forefront of her thoughts. _'Focus Hermione,'_ she chided herself, refocusing on the present conversation once again.

Fred continued where George had trailed off. "We'd never done anything major separately prior to this revelation; even our dates to the yule ball were ultimately spent together as one big group, and we didn't date anyone else in school while we attended. So, even though we shared everything in life, up to that point in time, these… feelings… became a frustrating and confusing subject for us – working out if we would be comfortable potentially sharing her affections – _if_ her affections were even on the table to be returned."

"And the possibility she would ever even _entertain_ the idea of one of us, let alone 'us,' was daunting in itself. I mean, we know _we're_ each a catch, and together we're unstoppable… but _her_ …" said George.

"She was scary smart, fiercely loyal, had good intentions even if somewhat misguided – "

"SPEW." Coughed out George, and both Fred and Hermione fixed him with reproving looks at the interruption.

" – and could be quite honestly a downright pain in the _arse_ at times!" Teased Fred.

"She was the desired date to the ball of the decade with the world's most renowned seeker, and also the person that seeker would miss the most during the tournament – despite _only_ meeting her a couple months prior." Said George.

"And though we wouldn't know it for another year, she would create hexes that even _Madam Pomfrey_ couldn't cure, and could do things with her wand that even some grown adults couldn't achieve." Fred shot her a look of pure adoration and admiration as he said this.

"She'd not only rescued an escaped convict by using a highly classified ministry item for unsanctioned and unapproved use, but then fought alongside other students, including our younger brother and sister, against full death eaters – almost _dying_ – from what we were able to extract from Ginny." George stated, wincing out the last bit; them both staring at her rubbing the sides of her torso subconsciously at his words.

At this, Fred sighed, and said almost in resignation, "What possibility did _either_ of us have with someone like her? With _you_?" At his identifying her as the witch in question, both twins leaned forward and angled their bodies to face her directly. "What are jokes and pranks when compared to heroic noble deeds and daring acts?"

"Plus, _blimey_ , Hermione, you dated a bloody _Quidditch_ star, not exactly the bloke one wishes to follow after…" joked George, causing her to smile and roll her eyes. They hadn't even had _that_ talk yet…

' _Merlin,_ that _will be fun,'_ she thought to herself dryly.

"And once we'd arrived at the knowledge that we _both_ desired you, and not just physically, but _all_ of you… well, we realized that we either had to come to terms with the possibility of sharing you or not pursue anything at all. You weren't just some one-off, we wanted to do this right." intoned Fred.

"Which is why we didn't even _attempt_ to hint at our feelings towards you until we knew it wouldn't be a problem between _us –_ between Fred and me _._ After our dalliances with…well, we can get into that another day…" he coughed to cover up his unease, his eyes sliding to the clock on the wall that was spelling down their time together, and Fred picked up the verbal baton.

"Needless to say, we fully accepted that we _enjoy_ sharing, that trying to individually date wouldn't be as fulfilling or _satisfying_ for us – though we can assure you, it is _strictly_ towards the witch, and witch _only_ , that our attentions are shared – not towards each other." Fed stated emphatically.

"That is the line. One of the only ones we _will_ _not_ cross…" George said, motioning between himself and Fred. "I mean, come on… He's a speckled git!"

Hermione laughed at that… at the absurdity that George would criticize his identical twin's appearance. Though she was relieved to hear them clarify something that had niggled at the back of her mind for a while, and found herself relax at their words, at the knowledge that she'd have no competition for their attentions.

She was beginning to see now how this could work between them, and the possibilities were tantalizing. Knowing they had no intention or inclination to… interact… with each other settled her, and helped bolster her own confidence in this developing troika.

"And then later," George continued once her laughter had tinkled out, "once sharing wasn't an issue between us any more, we waited until we were sure, through vague hints from our _dear_ sister though she didn't realize it at the time, that you were _probably_ single."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but was stalled by Fred, who hastened to say, "We know you _aren't_ a wizard's property, but manners still matter _Hermione_. And trying to put the moves on a witch while you know she's attached to another – even if it's only suspected – is just… _tacky_. Something we pride ourselves on _never_ being." Said Fred, with a nod and a pinch to his face that told her all she needed to know about his thoughts on 'tacky'.

"Flashy, obnoxious, flamboyantly extravagant – _yes_ to all that," chimed in George.

"But _never_ tacky," stated Fred. "Why put her in a position where she feels she needs to choose just to keep the peace; or make her feel we don't value her own judgement of her happiness?" Hermione smiled at how different their views were from the standard wizarding world. How refreshing.

"Although, if you _had_ decided you wanted one of us and not the other, I don't know what would have happened, to be honest. Thank Godric it didn't come to that..." George shuddered theatrically, thought she could sense a current of realistic undertones to his comment.

"So to answer you, Hermione, we _adore_ you – all of you. Have for a while. Though we won't disagree that you have also caused us a fair bit of stress and frustration over our market testing – "

" – Which we've promised is now buried and forgotten." George hurried to intercede again as she once again opened her mouth to offer a sharp rebuttal, "That being said, you take us to task, you don't let us get away with mayhem and murder just because we're handsomely amusing – which, as _annoying_ as it is, we know it's because you secretly care – and we know you won't let us go too far down the wrong path on any decision. If there is one person who can handle us both, it is _you_ Hermione."

"And we in turn, want to be your safe place. You are the most capable, _incredible_ witch we've ever had the privilege to know, and before beginning to ratchet up our charm…"

"We needed to ensure we could be what _you_ would need – a safe harbour that you could bend or break against. You don't _need_ to be strong with us. You _can_ be, and we will fully support and foster you in any capacity you choose – but you don't _need_ to be. We will take care of you, you will be _ours_ – not _property_ – but cherished and protected. So you can do your ' _swotty, know-it-all, prefect thing'_ and protect others."

Hermione had tears in her eyes following their proclamation; never had she imagined the length or depth of their feelings – even with the room and extensive preparations for this date. Quickly brushing them away as to not bring down the moment, she gave them each a water smile, which they readily returned.

"Now's our turn to shift the scales. Why us, Hermione? Why not any other bloke, _especially_ one your age or at least still in school?" asked Fred, tilting his head and gazing at her with eyes

"Or, _bloody hell_ , someone who at least graduated officially?" said George. "Surly you want someone who's been at least a prefect or with the proper credentials behind their name – and we have nary a NEWT between us."

"Or why _both_ of us, not just one or the other?" finished Fred.

Hermione laughed again, and stood up to stretch before responding. Extracting herself from her long held position in the chair, she unfolded her body – first her legs, then her arms, all the way to her neck – stretching each limb and muscle and feeling the blood rush through her veins as tension seeped from her body. She watched from beneath her eyelashes both Fred and George ghost their glances over her frame, running their eyes over her and following her movements. After her extremities felt lighter and she decided she'd teased the twins enough, she resettled in her armchair, facing them full on.

"First," she said clearly, "I don't _want_ any of the other blokes in school. I mean, they are _alright_ as friends, but you've seen how the majority of the student body react to anything out of the ordinary… sheep – the lot of them. And the ones' who aren't, well… I'm just not interested… Similar to how I assume you feel towards girls whom _you're_ friends with – a spark, that _something_ , is just… lacking… And, I have _enough_ of a time wrangling Ron and Harry to study and focus and _understand_ that the world won't end if they lose at Quidditch. I can't be _bothered_ to add another to my roster of those I'd ultimately have to parent."

The twins chuckled at her describing her relationship to Harry and Ron. Too often they'd witnessed scenes that leant valid truth to her statement.

"Secondly, I am closer to _your_ age than you realize. Though I _just_ celebrated my seventeenth birthday, I _did_ use a time-tuner my whole third year, every day save for weekends. And even sometimes on those as well – I did have a lot on my plate that year. So my _real_ age is actually _extremely_ close to yours. I might be even a smidge older…"

They gaped at her in awed silence, apparently not having realized _that_ effect the time turner had had on her.

"Thirdly, _yes_ , education is important – and, if you _ever_ admit what I'm about to say to Ron or Harry, or anyone else for that matter – I will deny it to my last breath. But, you are _more_ than just your credentials, or the lack thereof. There is more to life than marks, books or prestigious positions. Who gives an arse if someone got 12 OWLS and 6 NEWTS if they are going to end up being a complete tosser who abandons their family?"

"I assume you mean our twat of a brother Percy?" Fred asked with a raised eyebrow. "Who, for the record, only received 5 NEWTS."

She was taken aback momentarily by Fred's last comment, having always heard otherwise and using that as a goal to attain or surpase; then shook her head, continuing. "And as to what you have managed to create... not just in products but also the hope and humor that have gone along with them – especially in the times we are living in – based on Harry's gold and your brains alone... It's awe inspiring. So you're not academically inclined – you are both bloody brilliant and extremely talented. I'm envious that you've managed to not only flaunt convention and still remain successful and respected, but that you did it without bending to societal pressure or losing yourselves in the process."

"Why _Hermione_ , what are these _words_ coming out of your mouth?" George asked, raising a hand to his mouth in mock surprise.

"Do my ears _deceive_ me? Did Hermione Granger just say that there was more important things in life than _marks_?" Fred chimed in, grinning approvingly at her.

She made a swatting gesture towards them, smiling while continuing on.

"And lastly, why both of you, not one or the other? Honestly, as much as I appreciate you both individually, I couldn't imagine _being_ with one without the other. When I would envision… us… together, it was _all_ of us. You two are my package, wrapped with your individual threads. Who knows, maybe I subconsciously felt that you wouldn't be happy dating separately either? I'm unsure, all I know is that, yes, being with one wizard was… nice." George quirked his eyebrow at this, and Fred began opening his mouth, she was sure, to ask _who_. Hermione continued on, not letting him speak. "It was even exciting at times. But thinking about being with only _one_ of you… _that_ didn't feel _right_ – and so I had to examine _why_."

She cleared her throat. "Envisioning sharing time, thoughts and ideas, laughter, meals, physical pleasures… _together_ , the three of us, well that – Fred, George – there are no words that convey how that makes me feel. Excited doesn't even come close. But what it does is make me eager to see where _this_ goes. I know this defies convention, and we will have obstacles, from outside pressure – especially from your mother – let alone just figuring this out for ourselves. But merlin help _anyone_ who tries to shame me, or you, for what I believe, will make us all happy and fulfilled."

At the end of her impassioned ending, Fred and George shifted off their chairs and came to rest, each on their knees in front of her.

"Hermione, we would be _honored_ if you would date us." They said together.

"Go steady with us?" George said.

"Be our girl?" Fred crooned.

"Oh you are the… Get up you great _prats_. You're not proposing marriage, so you can save the bended knees." She laughed as her heart soared, standing alongside them as they all rose, and took a hand of each into each of her own.

"There. You're standing, I'm standing. We're all standing in a circle like a bunch of… stupefied pixies, after that _ridiculous_ and gallant gesture…" She chuckled, happiness radiating from her eyes and smile as she answered.

"Yes… My answer is yes! I will date you. Go steady with you. I will be your girl."

The smiles that broke across Fred then George's face were blinding. Quicker than she could blink an eye, George had let go of the hand of hers he held as Fred moved to stand in front of her, pulling her tightly against his tall lean frame.

She felt Fred's hands move from where they'd been at her waist as he's pulled her near, to gently but firmly cup her face. He brought his head inches away from hers, his lips just ghosting over her own, as he whispered, "Ours," before his lips devoured hers.

This wasn't the kiss from her dream. Nor was this the kiss from earlier when she'd been overwhelmed with gratitude over their amazing gift and thoughtfulness and had thanked them physically – too stunned to form appropriate words.

This kiss, this kiss was pure unadulterated fire – smouldering heat and electric sparks. This was moist tongues and teeth that grazed and pulled on her lip, nipping before his tongue would slide over to sooth the sting of his bite. This kiss was intoxicating.

She gave as hard and good as she took – it was a battle of wills, of power and strength, two equals battling for dominance. Her hands threaded themselves in his hair, and she arched her body into and against his own, feeling his taut form against hers, eliciting a groan against her mouth and hearing another echo from slightly behind her.

She gradually began to recognize the slowing of the pace of their snog and after a few more dips and nibbles from his lips and sweeps of his talented tongue, Fred pulled back. He kissed the tip of her nose and rested his forehead to hers, his hands still cradling her face and his long dexterous fingers threaded into her disheveled mass of curls. They were both slightly out of breath, and as she worked to get hers under control, she felt hands slip around from behind and hands to rest firmly but gently upon her hips.

"Turn around for me Hermione," George said, a commanding whisper in her ear, his lips brushing the outer rim of her ear while his tongue flicked out to dance along the lobe. "I've waited years to sample those lips, to explore your mouth. Turn around for me, let me taste you…"

At George's words, Fred's hands released themselves from her face and he took a slight step back, gliding his hands down to her shoulders and turning her towards George, who hadn't moved his head away from where it was positioned near her ear.

Hermione stared hungrily at George's extremely close face through half lidded eyes, her arousal from Fred's kiss and the anticipation of his own evident in her gaze. His hands remained on her hips – Fred's sliding away from her shoulders to give them their own moment – as George began to murmur once more in her ear.

"Do you know how _arresting_ you looked, how _enticing_? Pressed up against Fred like that? Just looking at how he made you _feel_ , your reactions… Let me feel how you react to _me_ Hermione…"

"Please…" She gasped out as his lips descended upon hers.

Where Fred's kiss had been fire and heat, George's kiss was a heady blend of steeled sparks and unyielding power. Where she and Fred bartered for dominance, George established his from the start, capturing her lips with his and yielding nothing in his quest to explore her mouth.

Kissing Fred and George was everything… and _nothing_ … compared to her dream. It was _exponentially_ , exquisitely better…it was… Real. She had never felt more alive.

George pillaged, played and teased, eventually releasing her lips from his to travel up along her jawline to her ear, where he proceeded to murmur delectable phrases as he allowed his tongue and lips free reign to explore; his hands trailing lower to cup her bum, melding her body to his. Her head moved on its own accord to give him better access and she heard mewled sounds of need escaping from her mouth as she ground against him.

His tongue, which had been lavishing attention to the pressure point just under her ear, slowed before he nipped at her lobe and brought his face back to hers.

" _Ours_ …" He reiterated Fred's earlier statement, then retreated slightly, though still retained her hand in his own. His thumb rubbing circles as it had done earlier when they'd first arrived.

"Ours to cherish, ours to adore, respect, to protect." Said Fred who'd stood from where he'd been lounging in his armchair during her snog with George, to come to stand beside them.

Hermione shivered at their words. "I feel like I'm in a _binding_ ritual, you're both so _serious_ and your words feel very… official." She shivered again, not entirely put off from the visual of being… bound – by or to – these marvellous wizards standing in front of her.

"Merlin _no_ " George said, laughing huskily, "we learned our lesson when we were younger about binding magics. Mum almost tanned us alive when she found out about us tricking Ronnikins into almost entering into an unbreakable vow. We'd never do _anything_ like that now, would _never_ take away your choice unknowingly. Other than our declaration to you on our exclusivity, there will be nothing… _permanently_ … binding, except if we were to get _married_..."

"Which we definitely are _not_ ," stated Fred, with a roll of his eyes towards his brother, and taking her other hand, the one not held by his brother. "At least not _today_ or anytime in the near future. For merlin's sake, we just laid out our intentions. Let's let the elf wine decant for a bit before muddling things up thicker, shall we?"

She gave his hand a squeeze, and smiled. She was so looking forward to their _decanting_ sessions…

"But we _are_ serious about what we said. You are _ours_ , and we protect our own. And we are yours in turn."

"I like the sound of that…" murmured Hermione. "Mine, yours. And this, this between us… _ours_!"

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

As she made her way back to the castle shortly after their heady declarations, hidden under the cloak and using the map to navigate around the various students wandering the grounds, Hermione's heart and mind were full and contented. She was torn between what she wanted to do _first,_ upon arriving at the Castle's main doors. Find Ginny and give an abridged version of the afternoon's events and reveals – or take some private time in the prefects' bath to replay the conversations and the… non-verbal… communications with _her_ two wizards?

Entering the castle, she ducked behind a suit of armor to remove the cloak and stuff it and the map in her shoulder bag. Checking to ensure she was unobserved, she made her way out from behind the suit of arms and up the main staircase; skipping the trick step and turning towards the staircase that would take her up to the Gryffindor dorms. As she arrived on the seventh floor and approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, she saw her fiery friend climbing out of the portrait hole. Realizing her choice of activity for the remainder of the afternoon had just been solidified, she smiled at her friend.

"Just the witch I was hoping to see," noted Ginny, catching sight of her. She looped her arm through Hermione's and with all the subtly of a rogue bludger, pulled her along the corridor towards the Room of Requirement.

"You will not _believe_ what that enormous _prat_ of a brother did during our Quidditch scrimmage today," spat Ginny, shaking her head at Ron's apparent transgression, then brightened as she looked towards Hermione. "Though I'm sure I can wait to tell you, as you must have _loads_ to tell me, about what you've spent your time … _discovering_ … today in the library."

At Ginny's comment, Hermione felt her cheeks heat and a slow smile spread across her lips, of remembered kisses and tantalizing touches.

"Oh this is going to be _good_." Cackled Ginny upon looking at Hermione's flaming face, before walking in front of the wall three times – a door appearing to what would be a private sanctuary in which they could talk for the hours preceding their evening meal.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **A/N: Ten points to whomever recognizes the Harry Potter-ized "Guardians of the Galaxy" reference. Thank you for all your lovely reviews! I hope you all continue to enjoy this tale as much as I love sharing it with you. Your reviews make me happy like birthday cake ice cream. With sprinkles… Delicious multi-colored sprinkles…**

 **Question: Who do you believe should be the first person to find out? I have a few potentials, outlined with resulting directions of fallout, but want to hear your thoughts? ~G**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:**

 **The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and Scholastic. All canon characters, plots, quotes and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.**

 **Rating warning:**

 **Rated M for scenes of inferred and of a potentially explicit sexual nature**

 **A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews and thoughtful responses regarding who should find out. You gave me a lot to contemplate :) To all the guest reviewers, I appreciate your kind words and wish I could respond to each of you personally. But alas, for anons I can't, so a blanket heartfelt 'thank you' to you all. And for the person who offered to bake me cake... You are a gem :)**

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **Supper time - The Great Hall**

"Did you find the book you were looking for Hermione?" Harry asked curiously at supper that evening, spooning peas onto his plate. Ron sat next to her, his plate of mashed potatoes piled high under a river of gravy, two chicken thighs gripped tightly in his hands as he vociferously devoured them. Shaking her head at his eating habits, she caught Ginny's eye from where she sat with Dean and Seamus, slightly down the table from her. Exchanging amused looks, the two quickly averted their laughter-filled gazes at Ron's atrocious table manners.

As she loaded her own plate, Hermione surreptitiously glanced around to see where Lavender was sitting — wondering if her friend's lack of etiquette would repulse the other Gryffindor girl — or if her attraction really was… _blind,_ to some of Ron's more appalling behaviours. She noticed Lavender and Pavarti seated at the opposite end of the Gryffindor table from where her, Ron and Harry sat; appearing in deep conversation with heads bent close and oblivious to those around them.

Despite her relative success in directing Ron's notice and regard toward Lavender — or at the least, away from herself — he continued to send Hermione signals of hesitant pursuit. It left her feeling disquieted and slightly exasperated with the situation. She'd have to figure a way to be more direct in her romantic disinterest without hopefully running afoul of his ego and damaging their friendship. A bit relieved that Lavender appeared otherwise engaged at present; Hermione returned her attention to Harry and the question he'd posed.

"I did," said Hermione, withdrawing an ancient looking tome from her school sack and dropping it onto the table between her and Ron; unfortunately — she noted — closer to Ron's plate than hers. She did her best not to wince as a few errant peas rolled off his plate, landing threateningly close to the ink covered pages. She subtly moved the book nearer on the table to her, away from his overladen plate and wandering cuisine.

The book she'd decided to pull out was one she'd pilfered from the Shrieking Shack's bookshelf before leaving the twins earlier, thankful she had an _actual_ book and not something she'd have to transfigure while hoping no one cast a _'finite'_ around it. A book she was _quite_ looking forward to reading, during whatever free time she could squeeze in between classes, prefect duties, homework and sneaking off to meet the twins.

"Wha's chis fen?" Ron chewed out around a bite of steamed carrots, leaning his head over to view what Hermione had risked possible expulsion to retrieve; his ears slightly red around the edges at the physical evidence of her departure from Hogwarts.

" _Honestly_ Ronald!" she said exasperatedly at his mumbled, food filled words.

Hermione sighed, knowing he and probably Harry would have strong opinions about the publication she'd chosen. Not that Ron needed _more_ incentive to bicker with her, as he was currently still cheesed off that she'd left Hogwarts unsanctioned. According to Ginny, he'd thrown a right fit when he'd found out the true location of Hermione's whereabouts, and had been giving her a slightly chilly shoulder since they'd met up for supper in the Great Hall.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **Earlier on, around late afternoon - The room of Requirement**

Meeting Ginny on the seventh floor corridor, they entered the Room of Requirement together; the room conjuring up a setting that mimicked the Gryffindor Common Room right down to the sofa, fireplace and overstuffed chairs. The two witches fell into their favourite pieces of furniture before settling in for conversation. Ginny began to explain what had led to her frustration with her brother, promising she wanted to hear all about Hermione's date but needing to get this off her chest first.

"Ron'd realized you'd been missing for longer than he deemed _healthy_ for such a 'lovely day off', and was about to head up to the library and drag you out himself when Harry panicked and blurted out how you'd actually gone to Hogsmeade."

Hermione stared at Ginny in mystified surprise. "Normally Harry's really quick and on his game when it comes to dodging questions — _especially_ if it's to protect someone. What happened Ginny, to make him lose his tongue?" she asked, a bit discomforted that he'd folded so quickly. "I mean, getting out of a tight spot is sort of Harry's _thing_ ; he's spun _loads_ of tall tales without fail…"

"True… It was a bit baffling to be honest Hermione. He's never seemed so caught out as he was this afternoon. Something appeared to be really distracting him, I don't believe he meant to rat you out. He looked _gobsmacked_ that he'd let your secret out..."

' _I can just imagine,'_ thought Hermione, smirking to herself about what could have _possibly_ distracted Harry enough to blurt out her secret. She wanted both her friends to be happy and Dean not to be hurt in the process; though despite wanting to subtly steer Harry in the direction he seemed to already be heading, as Ginny _was_ still with Dean and _was_ currently satisfied…

' _Never be tacky,'_ Fred and Georges words replayed themselves in her head, and she sighed. She'd keep her eye on the situation, but no interference or situational assistance…

"Thank goodness no one was in earshot except _me_ when his mouth spewed forth the truth, or we'd have had some explaining to do… I don't know what lit Ron up more, the fact you'd gone at _all_ — without even asking if _he_ wanted anything from the shops — or that _Harry_ _'d_ known and not told him. Mostly that one I believe…" She went on to describe Ron's reaction.

" _Bloody hypocrite — I mean, that's not on. She can't just lecture_ us _about toeing the line and then turn around and do the exact opposite_ _… I mean, she's a… a_ prefect _!_ _"_ Ginny had adopted her best Ron imitation when relaying this, even finishing with his typical indignant sputtering. The two broke out into giggles at her imitation, before Ginny continued with her recap of the afternoon.

"I played innocent, so as not to rile him up _more_ at being the last to know, but he was making _such_ a fuss it took me sending a bludger to his chest to get his focus back in the game. Who knew broom ends could be so accommodating and… facilitating… in aiming. He'd grumbled for a bit more after that, but his head was more in the game following the hit and he ended up saving more than he had _before_ our… slight intermission." Ginny grinned devilishly and Hermione winced while chuckling at her admission. Knowing Ron as she did, she would probably be hearing about this 'injury' later in the common room, in a potential bid for sympathy but more to underscore his _disappointment_ at being left out of knowing about her afternoon excursion.

"Though let me tell you Hermione, _not_ something I want to have to do again — hitting him with a bludger — as for the rest of the scrimmage he was a right beast. To play with _or_ against." Hermione rose from her seat, hugged her friend in thanks, and returned once more to her preferred spot; the left corner of the sofa.

They spent the rest of the time before dinner discussing Hermione's date — though she glossed over the delicate details and the intimacies. _Those_ were for her, and her alone…

Especially considering Ginny's reaction to _where_ the date had taken place.

"The shrieking shack! You're _joking_!" Ginny stared incredulously at Hermione who stared resolutely back. "No… no, I can see you're not… though, _there?_ For your first _date_? What were they…?"

"Ginny, they've _transformed_ it — it's incredible! It's as if they looked into my head and heart and extracted everything I ever _dreamed_ about in a personal refuge and funnelled it into one room. They even put in a bookshelf! _Bursting_ with books, most of which I've never read or even _seen_ before…." She gushed before pausing, not knowing if Ginny grasped the significance of this gift for her. " _Books_ Ginny. They said they looked forward to us using that as _our_ meeting place — the three of us — spending time, collaborating, studying, and engaging in other _mutually_ _pleasurable_ activities…"

Ginny sat there as she prattled on, a look creeping upon her face that cut short Hermione's poetic waxing over their surprise.

"They really like you." Ginny finally stated after almost half a minute of silence; almost in a whisper. "They truly like _you_. Not just parts, not just for a one-off, and apparently not _just_ for the moment. I've never seen, or heard, of them going to an effort like this for _anyone_ Hermione." She was looking at her in almost awe. "Even _Bill_ didn't put this much effort in when he was wooing Phlegm, sorry… Fleur… or so I've heard…"

"She really is… nice," Hermione said tentatively, her cheeks flushed with delight at her friend's previous comments, but Ginny cut her off with a roll of her eyes, a flick of her hand and a contemptuous snort.

"Oh I'm sure she is, and I'm _happy_ Bill's happy and all that. But she's so… dismissive, of _everything_. And every time she says _'Arry_ , in her lilting French accent, I find myself losing the urge to be… agreeable." She speared Hermione with a pointed look, silently daring her to comment on her revealing remark; the apparent lingering jealous. Hermione chose not to comment.

Appearing to take Hermione's silence as an indication of her acceptance of shelving that topic, Ginny nodded and asked, "Now, Hermione. Given all that transpired today, and what we talked about in the hospital wing… I have to ask, little sister duty and all. What are your intentions with my brothers?"

Hermione chuckled at Ginny's protectiveness toward Fred and George, not perturbed in the least that she was being asked this _now_.

"Well… I learnt that they have carried this torch for me _much_ longer than I have for them. Did you know that? Fred in my third year, George in my fourth. That doesn't intimate me, nor detract from how I feel toward them in the slightest. If anything, it _boosts_ my attraction and confidence as I'm not afraid of them doing a runner as things progress. As to my intentions… I want this, I want _them_ , Ginny. Together, all of us. The three of us. Despite the possible fallout." She blushed and looked at her hands. "They asked me to go steady, to be their girl, to be _theirs_ … I said yes."

Hermione raised her head and beamed the widest smile her mouth could accommodate at Ginny, who let out a warrior yelp at this confession and flung her arms around her. In that moment, Hermione was beyond grateful for Ginny's friendship and acceptance, returning the hug with vigour. She knew that once news began to spread about her relationship with the Twins; opinions, taunts and suppositions would begin and she was so thankful to have Ginny in her corner.

It would also make her feel less apprehensive if Ron and Harry knew as well. She hoped they'd be open-minded enough not to pass judgement or condemnation and to be happy for her; but she was pragmatic enough not to discount any possibility, especially where a more _emotional_ reaction the news was anticipated by one of them.

"Oh Merlin! I'm so happy for you three. Though…" At this, Ginny broke off, looking seriously at Hermione as she voiced what was on her own mind, "I wonder who's going to take the news worse — Ron or Harry?"

"Oh, I'm not telling them today…" Hermione rushed to clarify, telling herself it wasn't cowardliness that held her back. "I need time to just enjoy this myself, before inviting others and their scrutiny and opinions into the mix. Promise me Ginny, you won't breath a word to them, at least not until I'm ready for them to know. I might need you to smooth any ruffled feathers after I have though." Hermione paused and looked down to her hands, noticing she'd been picking at the skin around her thumbnail, an old habit born out of anxiety and nerves.

Letting out a resigned sigh, she said softly, "I do need to make it clear to Ron that my only interest in him is that of friendship. He's still passively persistent and I don't want to leave him any uncertainty regarding where my feelings lie. That would just exacerbate any reaction he'll have to my _actual_ romantic interest, and I don't want him to think it's a him _or_ them thing, as it's not."

"I know it's not," smirked Ginny, "Those feelings faded once Krum entered… the picture" She finished the sentence with a wink and a hand motion Mrs. Weasley would have been scandalized to witness, causing Hermione to double up in laughter.

"I won't," assured Ginny, switching back into a serious tone and her eyes blazing with a look Hermione had only seen a handful of times, like right before the ministry. "Not even if Ron's the biggest _prat_ in the world… I _won_ _'t_ betray your trust in me about the Twins."

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **Supper Time - The Great Hall**

Now, hours later, Hermione sat; feasting on chicken pie and steamed and roasted vegetables and preparing herself for Ron's probable reaction to her chosen literature.

He started to reach his hand toward the book but, after catching her look of disgust at the food remaining on his fingers, Ron made deliberate wipes of his hands on his serviette before pulling the book closer. Reading the name, he choked on the food still in his mouth, snatching up his water goblet and taking massive gulps before finally saying, _"Blimey_ Hermione! That's not on! Do you know what that book… what's _in_ there?

At her nod, he sat there agog, his mouth slightly open in what looked like awed disbelief, while Harry looked on between them in puzzlement. At Ron's muttered _'Bloody hell_ ,' Harry grew frustrated and turned the book round to face him, his face blank as he stared at the cover before raising his eyes in confusion.

"I don't understand… What am I missing? It's an ancient book - one of thousands I'm sure Hermione will read before leaving this place. Though I don't know how this will help your studies Hermione. Unless it's for… ancient runes?" He swung his look of befuddlement between Ron and Hermione, and Ron wasted no time in jumping in, eager to clarify with an explanation for his outburst.

"That book's _filled_ with potions not even _mentioned_ in Potions Most Potente as they're so… depraved. And the included combination of runes, spells, of charms…" He shuddered theatrically, before giving the book a look of deepest disgust. Hermione rolled her eyes at his showboating. Sometimes it was a blessing that Harry was raised muggleborn like her, he wasn't filled with ingrained prejudices against subjects he didn't understand.

"How do you know so much about this book," shot back Hermione acidly.

"Bill," said Ron. "He had this book when I was younger, left it lying around at the Burrow and mum tore a strip off him for leaving it where Ginny or I could get our hands on it. Naturally I was curious why a book would incite her anger like that, so I asked him later, away from her ears… He said he needed it for cracking the most complex of curses, the worst of the ancient protections he came across in his job. It's not a book to be trifled with Hermione. I wouldn't have thought this would be lying in a bookshelf in Hogsmeade… It's pretty rare, and expensive!"

Harry's face had twisted into a look of incredulity as Ron spoke and he bit out hotly, "You mean to tell me, that this," he indicated the book between them, "Is a book a veteran curse-breaker uses to crack ancient dark spells and enchantments? You're _got_ to be joking Hermione! Talk about hypocritical behaviour… Giving me a hard time about the _Prince_ and reading _nasty books._ You risked _everything_ you've worked for here to go get… _this_?" He seemed to catch himself and Hermione witnessed him physically reign in his anger. He fixed her with a look she knew all too well — his 'tell the truth' stare, including the mulish set of his jaw and folded arms. "Why, Hermione? This… this is _dark_ magic, and I know you wouldn't be reading this without a _proper_ reason…" He quirked an eyebrow and she felt a flash of resentment that he'd compare the Prince's book to this… official piece of incredibly detailed literature.

She appraised her two friends stonily, witnessing their reactions and noting that for once, it was Harry who had the hotter temper.

"If you _must_ know, Harry, this _first_ edition of 'Black Phoenix Esoteric Alchemical Methodvs Scientiarvm' by Hieronymi Brittani is _not_ dark magic —," Ron laughed sarcastically, "— _per_ say…" She shot him a dark look. "All magic has the capability to be used for malicious significance or benign reasoning. It is the _intent_ and _interpretation_ by the user that dictates whether a magical property — be it a potion, charm or spell — is dark or light. You can just as easily kill someone using the aguamenti spell — if that someone is restrained and unable to move their face to breathe — as you can with some of the more… _inventive_ spells. Just because something _looks_ dastardly doesn't mean it is, nor does the lack of a shadowy reputation mean something is pure and above misuse or reproach. It could be loaded with traps _or_ smoke and mirrors to deflect pursuers of certain _branches_ of magical practice. And I intend to learn it all. You are doing your… part, in preparing for this war. I am doing mine."

Ron and Harry sat there as she finished her heated rebuttal, looking at her in an almost sheepish awe — Ron's earlier peevishness and Harry's annoyed anger having dissipated. She'd never vocalized their roles in the upcoming war and her outright acknowledgement appeared to take them aback. They exchanged sheepish looks before returning their gazes to her. She flinched as she realized they were both sitting there feeling guilty about something she herself didn't even _do_ — she hadn't been out shopping for this book, she'd been out having her own fun — and their chagrin and guilt was now weighing on her conscious. Although, in regards to why she'd chosen to bring back _that_ book - she _was_ telling the truth - the book _would_ help in their future task; it was just the _sourcing_ of said book that differed from reality. She also mentally relayed her earlier conversation with Ginny, knowing she couldn't put off much longer telling the two wizards sitting around her - her best mates - about the two who'd detoured their way into her heart.

"I know you, of all people Hermione, wouldn't get caught up in the dark arts. And even if you did, you aren't exactly their target market for desired members —" Harry joked.

"I _am_ a bit… _deficient,_ in my plasma markers apparently." She scoffed though threw a slight smirk in his direction; her and Harry exchanging wry glances before laughing together at Ron's face. He'd screwed up his eyebrows and wrinkled his nose in the most comical quizzical expression.

"Muggle science thing," Harry gasped out as he pulled himself together. Their laughter had attracted attention, and Hermione noticed two in particular whose eyes had drifted to her two friends.

"Well, on that note, I _do_ need to actually head to the library today —"

"But Hermione…" Ron whined slightly. "You promised you'd help me with Snape's assignment tonight. It's going to take me ages as it is…" He shot her a look of panicked desperation. Harry's head snapped back round from where it'd drifted to surreptitiously stare in Ginny's direction — Hermione noted, smirking internally at this — his facial expression shifting to mirror Ron's.

She sighed, and winced internally. She'd been spot on when she'd told Fred and George that her days were almost spent parenting Ron and Harry. The assignment in question had been doled out three days before, and they had yet to crack their books let alone put quill to parchment. Hers was done the day it'd been assigned, as was her norm. Her finishing it pre-emptively had _nothing_ to do with her attempt at keeping her nerves at bay in preparation for today's date.

Nothing at all.

"I did and I will, Ron, but I do need to do this first. If I _don_ _'t_ get my _own_ work finished, I won't be able to help you lot." She put her hand on Ron's arm as she stood and hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. Turning sightly, she paused before spinning around again to face him and Harry.

"Oh Ron! Don't forget we also have prefect rounds tonight. I'll meet you at eight in the common room? And I'll help you afterwards on your essay. Both of you." She said, and held back rolling her eyes at the look of gratitude on the two wizard's faces.

"See you at eight Hermione," Ron acknowledged, shooting her a look she had no desire to interpret.

"Right, see you both later." She said, her words coming forward a tad more brisk than she'd anticipated, due to her aversion of his gaze.

And with that, she made her way out of the hall. As she passed Ginny's spot along the Gryffindor table, she caught her friend's eye and sent her a wink. Ginny laughed, the sound mixing with those of the rest of the dining hall to create a comforting symphony of disjointed noise that followed her out into the corridor.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

"H-hermione! W-wait up," Lavender panted as she careened around a corner. Hermione paused in her directed course to the library and waited for her roommate to catch up.

"W-wow… You sure… can… move," huffed out Lavender between breaths, once she'd caught up to Hermione. "I've been _trying_ to catch up to you since you left the main hall." She said, a bit reproachfully.

Hermione winced. She'd thought she'd heard her name called as she reached the door but, after looking around and seeing none of her friends had called out, she'd hurried off toward the library wing. She really needed to work on her homework, especially as she wished to pop down to the Shrieking shack in the next few days and didn't want to fall behind in her studies. It was horrible enough that Harry seemed to be passing her in potions due to that… that _insufferable_ book! She couldn't let any more class leads fall by the wayside. Merlin forbid _Malfoy_ surpass her. She shuddered at this thought. It was at times like these she jokingly wished to herself she still possessed the time-turner.

Now though, watching her roommate work to control her breathing, she felt a twinge of sympathy at having apparently looked through her in the Hall. Sympathy which turned to burgeoning annoyance when Lavender didn't say anything once she straightened, just looking at Hermione with a piercing gaze and hands on hips.

"Sorry Lavender, I didn't realize… What's up? Is this Prefect duty related or…" she trailed off, assuming Lavender's desire to have a chat was not in fact Hogwarts related but instead Ron related.

"Right, erm… Can we just," said Lavender - motioning to an unused classroom down a ways, to the left of where they were standing. "Go in there a moment?"

"O-kay…" Said Hermione, shrugging. The two girls made their way into the classroom, and Hermione shut the door, adding a silencio for good measure.

"Right, well, I just…" began Lavender, appearing to struggle over what she wanted to say. Hermione's annoyance — already teased — peaked as the blond girl vacillated, and any tact she possessed flew out the window as she addressed the girl in front of her.

"Oh spit it _out_ Lavender! You chased me all this way for _something_ , but I really _do_ need to get to the library - which closes in just… two hours!" Hermione said exasperatedly, glancing at her watch.

"What are your intentions with Ron?" Blurted Lavender loudly, her face flushing a scarlet as the words tumbled forth.

"Nothing outside friendship." Stated Hermione firmly and without pause, noticing Lavender's pensive expression turn hopeful at these words and delivery. As her and Lavender hadn't had the smoothest of relationships throughout the years, if she'd wanted to be a complete tosser this would have been the _perfect_ chance to mess with her emotions.

But, seeing as Hermione really didn't _want_ the continued quagmire of emotions from Ron's continued passive aggressive pursuit, she desired to nip it in the bud as effectively as possible. And really, playing with Lavender right now _would_ be unnecessarily mean…

"I'm actually seeing…" she broke off, setting her mouth in a tight clamp and cringing as she saw Lavenders eyes widen at her admission. She hadn't told Ron or Harry about Fred and George yet, let alone that she was dating someone. She was _not_ blurting out the news that she was seeing — not just one — but _two_ wizards… Not to Lavender. Not yet, and not here.

' _Damn it,_ ' she swore to herself, realizing _that_ conversation would be happening sooner rather than later about being 'off the market' so to speak; since Lavender wasn't known for keeping her mouth shut when it pertained to gossip.

And Hermione Granger dating was gossip of the hottest sort. She'd be lucky if the whole castle didn't hear about it before morning.

' _Bugger all,_ ' she grumbled to herself, _'There goes my trip to the library… I'll need to sort this out with the boys first — or at least with Ron.'_

"I'm taken." She finished instead, and Lavender's eyes narrowed.

"By who." She questioned hotly, as though Hermione was lying to her. "I haven't seen you around anyone in school save for Ron, Harry and Neville. And I know you'd never go for _Neville._ _"_ She gasped as Hermione's eyes narrowed at the inferred slight toward her friend. "Is it _Krum_? I know you two went together to the ball ages ago, but…" She looked expectantly at Hermione, who sighed and rolled her eyes.

' _This, right here, is why I rarely seek out her company._ ' Hermione thought. _'So quick to pounce… And does she forget I'm also muggleborn? That there is a whole world full of boys and men that aren't part of the magical community? Or am I reading too much into this…'_

"No, not Viktor. Nor a Muggle," She responded, "And no one I'm about to elaborate on at present." She stated, quite firmly, and Lavender pursed her lips in momentary resignation at being denied the cherry on her already juicy gossip sundae.

"But, to appease your curiosity — even if I _wasn_ _'t_ taken — I'm not interested in Ron past loving him as a friend." She smiled at Lavender now, genuinely curious to see if her roommate would admit to her own feelings. "Why are you wondering Lavender?"

Lavender had paled slightly and winced when the word _love_ had been tossed out, despite it being attached to the friendship moniker. And, in spite of Lavender's abrasive curiosity, Hermione felt more cordial and accommodating toward alleviating the awkwardness of the conversation than she typically felt in the girl's presence due to her wonderful afternoon earlier. Reaching out a hand, she placed it on Lavender's arm.

"You fancy him, don't you?" She asked kindly.

"Yes." Said Lavender, in an uncharacteristically soft voice. "But I always thought…"

"Thought there was something between me and him?" Hermione asked. She knew what was assumed, and not just by Lavender.

"Yeah, I do. I mean… did, I guess… did, now that you've clarified your feelings. It's just, it's always the three of you, together. Going on adventures, all your secrets; you have a tight bond that makes anyone else feel like outsiders intruding on a moment. And you and Ron have such…" She broke off, searching for the word.

"Loud conversations? An acute ability to poke each other's buttons _just_ so?" said Hermione, chuckling.

"Passion!" Clarified Lavender firmly. Hermione snorted.

"If there's passion, it is definitely _not_ stemming from the urge to snog him, but rather; to beat him upside the head with a thick book at times. I promise you that!" She retorted.

"I watched Ron, all last year you know. During class, in the DA. I really… admire him… You don't see him in Divination, he's actually _really_ funny with his predictions. And usually right, in some obscure way."

"You know him and Harry make those up don't you," Hermione said, rolling her eyes at the thought of that wasted time-slot of a class.

Lavender shot her a look before continuing. "I know he can be rude; I've heard him say insensitive things that make a person want to curl up and hide. But… I fancy him, despite all that, as I see how loyal and cool under pressure and _brave_ he can be… I was _going_ to summon my courage and declare my interest to him this year, after realizing that… Well, when I heard what I happened to you lot at the ministry, I realized life was too short and unpredictable to wait." She sighed and looked at Hermione with annoyed resignation.

"But I'm not _blind_ Hermione, nor am I dimwitted. I've noticed how he's looked at you since term started, and also throughout years past. _You_ may not have noticed —"

Here Lavender broke off and her typical smirk flashed at her assumption of Hermione's ignorance toward flirtations and boys, "But his behaviour has been shifting in regards to you. And though you and I've never got on really — past pleasantries and general surface natter — I wanted to have a chat with you _first_ , for if there _was_ something between you, well…" She broke off, looking down toward the floor. Hermione was left with the impression that Lavender would probably _still_ have pursued Ron, just in with different tact and fashion. Though, from Lavender's current demeanour and, maybe she was misjudging her.

"I just needed to determine for myself." Lavender continued, "I don't like obscurities or uncertainty, and though we aren't best mates, I don't fancy sharing a room with someone who's out for my blood. I would _never_ want to be caught in the crossfire between you two, or used as a pawn in some sort of emotional game of tag. What I feel for him, it's real. And the resulting emotional outcome if I were just used as a diversion or something… it is best I know now."

Hermione felt a rush of respect flood her chest as she looked at Lavender and took in her words. It took guts to do what Lavender had just done, and yearned to reassure her.

"In fourth year — before the ball — I had hoped _something_ might have developed romantically between us," said Hermione honestly. "But after his comments after he 'realized I was a girl,' and then his attitude toward me after finding out I was Viktor's date, well… I must say, that — and other things — changed my romantic perspective of him slightly. As in, I didn't have any residual yearnings in that respect."

"I can see that. He _can_ be a bit of a berk at times…" They both chuckled at the truth of that.

"He can be, but so can I," she said, and noticed Lavender made no move to put her at ease or deny that statement. "You were right when you said us three are always together, always on adventures and sharing secrets. That is our dynamic, and it won't change much, regardless of whom we all end up dating. It may shift slightly, to accommodate that new person, but I will _always_ be there, helping Ron with his homework or other academic situations, and we — Ron and I — will _always_ help Harry. Harry comes first, and with that comes secrets and adventures that only the three of us will be privy to. That _may_ change, potentially; but that's as it stands now. If you can accept that, accept that both Harry and I will be significant parts of Ron's life, accept the secrets, then I think you will bring Ron a load of happiness… should you decide to make a move. If you can't, well…" She let her sentence trail off and there was a beat of poignant silence before she smiled at Lavender, hoping the other girl understood that Hermione had just given her carte-blanche permission and acceptance to pursue her friend provided she take head of her… advice.

"That's a lot to think about… _Thank_ you, for telling me all that… If I _do_ make a move, I will do my _best_ to not let jealousy — of either of you — shade my eyes." She paused, then looked quizzically at Hermione.

"Did you and Krum… did you date?" Asked Lavender, still in her softer tone.

"We did." Was all Hermione said, though not with her usual defensive tone or lofty bite. She didn't elaborate, and surprisingly, Lavender didn't push her to.

"You know," Lavender said, staring at Hermione with saddened eyes. "I think this is the longest conversation we've ever had to be honest. After six years, after being roommates and all that. And it's all 'round a boy, which, considering it's _you_ , is laughable…"

Hermione felt a wave of guilt followed by that sharp sting of annoyance when the topic of boys and 'what-Hermione-knows' was said with scepticism and derision. Lavender was right, they _weren_ _'t_ best mates and they probably wouldn't be; they were so different, in many areas. She realized, with appalling honesty, that she'd never tried to really get to know her — her or Pavarti — since first year. Her walls had built up too high, after she'd tried and failed at navigating female friendships; first before Hogwarts and then during that first term.

Her first term at Hogwarts had been extremely tough. After finally understanding _why_ she was different than the other children in her year at the prep school she attended, she was excited to go to Hogwarts and meet others like her. She'd never been great at interpersonal relations; she'd enjoyed books more than children her age as they didn't taunt or belittle her. Didn't exclude or laugh at her. Instead, she devoured the pages of all sorts of books, extracting the knowledge from the pages and relished in learning and conquering new intellectual worlds.

When she'd boarded the Hogwarts express, she'd sat in a compartment with Neville, Lavender, Pavarti and Padma. They'd chatted and made tentative acquaintance, but her over-eagerness and precocious knowledge seemed to rub those in the compartment — save for Neville — the wrong way. Her and Ron, when they'd met, had _also_ not got on when she'd stumbled upon his and Harry's compartment, and though Harry'd seemed alright at the time, Ron's constant antagonistic and downright mean behaviour seemed to draw out her inner swot. She'd heard the words coming out of her mouth whenever they'd conversed, and though the _intent_ was there, she'd fume later at _how_ they'd spewed forward, the _way_ they'd been conveyed.

It had been the beginning of a very awkward and frustrating couple of months. As an eleven year old, she'd never been well versed in the minefield of typical girl chatter, having never been successful at _any_ friendships in her previous purely muggle years; let alone those of the female variety. It made her feel wrong footed and awkward, two things she read voraciously in order to not feel. She'd _attempted_ to befriend Lavender and Pavarti, in all her awkward eleven year old glory. But, as they were more interested in twittering about who in their year was _cute_ , hair styles, and ways to make their uniform 'unique' without breaking the rules of dress code and decorum; instead of discussing their daily lessons or new spells, she'd given up and — as a defence mechanism against things she didn't understand or unnerved her — had written them off as flighty and uninteresting.

Identifiers that, now that she thought back on it, she _may_ have said to Lavender's face…

And they in turn, had found her to be a dull droning annoyance — something Lavender had stated to _her_ one day after she'd ranted about Harry and Ron breaking the rules — and so had not pursued any sort of friendship with her _either_ , past roommate acquaintances. They'd asked her for homework help _once_ in their first term prior to that cooling period, and her genuine enthusiasm at being asked to share her knowledge had seemingly overwhelmed them and put them off asking a second time. By contrast, in her third year, when they'd asked again; she'd scoffed in what she'd felt to be justified contempt at their blatant desire to exploit her intellect.

She'd spend her days that first term reading in the library, chatting with Neville, Dean or Seamus on occasion, or visiting Hagrid's hut for tea and his rock cakes she'd hidden away in her pocket and discarded later. And though her days were full at the time, she never really connected with anyone. Not even Neville. Not really.

It had been an _extremely_ lonely time.

And after the troll escapade — when her friendship with Ron and Harry had sprouted and solidified — she was ashamed to admit to herself that she'd stopped putting effort into _any_ sort of relationship with her two roommates. She'd done what her eleven year old self did best in uncomfortable social situations - ignored and scoffed at it; locking it away in her mind in ignorance.

"I'm sorry," She said now, eyeing the girl in front of her with new eyes. "It is a bit… _disgusting_ , now that you mention it. And _not_ because of the subject matter." She sighed, then reached out her hand in front of her, offering it to the witch in front of her.

"Hi, I'm Hermione Granger. Some people call me a _dull droning annoyance_ , some call me brilliantly scary, and some call me 'theirs.' All true, but there's more to me than those descriptions. I'm the first to admit that my first impressions may come off _slightly_ abrasive, but my hearts in the right place. It's a pleasure to meet you, and I hope we can be friends." Her hand remained out, held in the standard handshake position; and she stood nervously waiting to see if her olive branch would be accepted.

Lavender stared at her, seemingly taken aback at her actions and statement. Hermione waited, and, just as she was sure Lavender would dismiss her, she reached out her own and clasped Hermione's hand with hers.

"I'm Lavender Brown. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Some may say I'm _flighty_ , talk to much, and have no academic inclinations. All true, I guess, if we're being honest… But there's more to me than surface appearances would suggest. And I'd really like that, if we become friends."

The two shook hands, and exchanged shy smiles. Six years later, a friendship's roots were planted, and a long dormant acquaintance bloomed.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

Hermione and Lavender walked back to the common room together, Hermione writing off going to the library as a bad job and promising herself she'd be extra diligent the following day in her studies and revisions before — maybe — heading down to the shack.

The two chatted about banal subjects; insipid surface scrapers that kept things light but still exposed countless unknowns that _really_ , after six years of sharing a dorm, Hermione found herself ashamed not knowing.

Hermione learned about Lavender's family, her favourite foods and what she'd done over the summer. She in turn gave Lavender a glimpse into her muggle life, and what it'd been like growing up not knowing about magic but having strange things happen. She also shared her first accidental magic episode with Lavender.

She'd been five. Her mum hadn't wanted her to play in the new outfit she'd bought for special occasions, the one that Hermione had taken a shining too and refused to wear anything but. Despite repeatedly changing her, Hermione would end up continuously wearing that outfit; the clothes her mother had tried to put on her finding themselves neatly folded on the shelf they'd been taken from. Her mother finally admitted defeat, and let her play in it to Hermione's immense joy. She'd found out, years later, that she'd left her to play on her own and had gone to lie down with a tumbler of scotch; so sure she was hallucinating. That, or losing her marbles.

Lavender had laughed, not _at_ her but _with_ her for once, and Hermione felt… content. It was refreshing in a way, discussing topics not related to the war outside that was brewing, or schoolwork or duties…

It was… nice.

She knew they were a long way from being friends, but she was hopeful that today marked a new beginning between her and Lavender — and by extension, Pavarti — and atmosphere in her dorm.

As they entered the common room, she saw Ron engaged in a heated game of exploding snap with Seamus, Harry lounging in one of the overstuffed chairs beside them reading… _that book_! Dean and Ginny were… she glanced around… _not_ currently present in the common room.

' _I sure hope we don't find them on rounds.'_ Hermione sighed, _'As if my conversation with Ron won't be awkward enough...'_

As they approached, Ron looked up and, catching sight of the two of them, did a double take at her and Lavender's proximity to each other. This was a rare occurrence and sadly one deserving of the second glance; his momentary lapse in concentration costing him dearly as his cards exploded with delighted violence before quickly turning to ash on the table.

Her flashed Hermione a brilliant lopsided smile as Seamus crowed his triumph at beating Ron, and Hermione heard Lavender's breath hitch beside her.

As her and Lavender sidled up to stand beside the three boys, she turned slightly and whispered, "Friends Lavender. _Close_ friends, but only friends…"

Lavender nodded, her eyes belying her unease now that they were around the boy she fancied with the road clear ahead.

"Library can't be closed yet." Said Ron, his eyes shifting between her and Lavender. Harry, she saw, appeared completely disinterested in what was going on around him, his nose buried so deep into his book that his nose almost touched the page. She hoped — a bit nastily — that if it did, the oil from his nose would smudge the ink, making it illegible and him in need of _another_ copy of the book. She felt her anger flash as she stared at the worn cover, and quickly turned away lest she fall into a fit of jealousy and make another scene...

"No, it's not. I ran into Lavender on my way and decided to forgo the library after all."

"Why?" Asked Ron quizzically.

"She spent all afternoon there," Seamus piped in, resetting the cards to play again. "Blimey! Even Hermione probably wants a break from there; from time to time…"

Hermione flashed him a grateful smile, leaving Ron's question unanswered. Turning to Lavender, she said, "Thanks for catching me and I'm glad we were able to… clear the air. I'll see you later on?"

Lavender looked a bit put out that she was being — politely — dismissed, but, seeming to remember Hermione's words earlier regarding her friendships just replied, "See you later on Hermione. Enjoy rounds." And she walked over to where Pavarti was sitting; working on what looked to be divination reading.

As Hermione sat down on the edge of the sofa, she stared at Ron. He'd turned back to his game again, but she noticed him absently rubbing his chest at where she assumed the bludger had hit him earlier.

She mentally rehearsed what she wanted to say to him, how to approach the subject of his projected affections without completely putting her foot in it. She wasn't the most tactful, especially when it came to him, and if she'd had time, she would have preferred to go to Harry first about this… He at least never seemed to judge her, never judged anyone for that matter — save for Slytherins' and toads like Umbridge. Only then did his personal biases rise to the surface. But her slip of the tongue to Lavender had forced her hand in this matter, and time was not her friend despite Lavender's cautious demeanour.

As Hermione's mind bounced over these contemplations, her eyes remained rooted to Ron's torso. Ron looked up, catching her eyes fixated upon the spot where his hand lay upon his chest, and his cheeks tinged a faint rosy hue; his lips tilting in a slight smile. The likes of which sent alarm bells caterwauling inside her head. She blinked, jerking her eyes away from where they'd rested and realized that — early as it was for Prefect rounds — it was time. Time at least for _one_ of the conversations she'd discussed earlier with Ginny, if not both...

"Ron," she said, in a voice she hoped was casual and not filled with a resigned strain, "Actually, I _do_ need to go to the library… I need to drop off a book before rounds. I can't believe I almost forgot!" Ron shot her an incredulous look at this and she held her ground, despite inwardly cringing at her pathetic excuse to get him alone.

"How could you possibly _forget_?" He asked, then said slyly, "Isn't it written in your homework helper? Color-coded return dates or something of that ilk?"

"Har har," she responded, though now that he mentioned it… she hadn't seen either him or Harry using the one's she'd given them; save for a couple times last year. Good to know it was galleons well spent.

"Since it'll take a bit of time to get there, and we'll need to begin rounds soon after, can you walk with me to the library? It will save me from coming all the way back here to get you…" When he looked about to argue she added, a bit desperately as she thought of Lavender spilling the news first, "There's also something I'd like to talk with you about...Prefect matters." she sputtered.

She did her best to not glance over at Harry as she said this, who'd looked up from his book when she'd mentioned going back to the library, an eyebrow raised. He'd looked at her in a peculiar way, a way that made her feel slightly exposed; and this moment was awkward enough for her — what with Seamus there, and Lavender across the common room — that she could do without Harry's predicable reaction to her suggestion. It was rare she made an obvious request to spend time with either of them separately save from prefect duties or if the other was being a right _prat_ , and; as Harry was convinced something was developing between her and Ron, she realized he would definitely infer additional meaning behind her words.

She couldn't help herself, however, surreptitiously glancing Harry's way again despite telling herself not too; chuckling a bit as he looked as if he'd been hit over the head with a bludger and was now shifting his eyes anywhere but to the two of them.

Ron cleared his throat, his ears pink. Standing, he nodded to Seamus who looked put out that his game was being cut short, and motioned to the portrait hole.

"Sure, ummm... Lead on Hermione."

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **A/N: I know I know... no F &G *sigh*, but Hermione did _just_ leave them only hours before... and she had some things that needed sorting at the castle... But I promise, those two will be bringing their charms back to the screen next chapter. ~G**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer** :

The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and Scholastic. All canon characters, plots, quotes and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

 **Rating warning** :

Rated M for scenes of inferred and of a potentially explicit sexual nature

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **Chapter 8**

As Ron and Hermione wandered out of the portrait hole, he turned and asked, "What's going on? What'd you need to talk to _me_ about? Is this about Harry and his lessons?"

His gaze was sharpe and alert; she realized then that he hadn't picked up on the awkwardness in the common room like Harry had. In fact, her earlier chastisement at the dinner table — reminding them of the simmering war and their roles in it — seemed to have pushed to the forefront.

"No, nothing about Harry… although you could stop cheering him on with that book… it's going to lead him down a bad path. I know it."

"You're just sore that he's beating you in something," Ron smirked at her, "But I've noticed you holding your tongue more about it... that's, nice of you..." He seemed relieved that this wasn't going to be another one of their 'Harry Meetings,' where they talked secretly about how — no matter what — Harry came first. Harry needed to survive. Harry — not them — who was to defeat Voldemort. She knew it got bit maudlin, a bit grating, these constant chats of theirs when Harry was elsewhere. But it was their reality, one they'd signed up for their first year, and every year following.

Hermione contemplated delaying bringing up her true reason for seeking Ron out; shelving it for another day… then remembered her slip-up to Lavender and grimaced.

"What's wrong Hermione?" Ron asked, scanning his eyes over her in concern, having witnessed her facial muscles twitch in grievance. "Are you in pain? Did you hurt yourself going down to to the village earlier?

Hermione's stomach knotted…

"Ron, it's not Harry I want… I want to talk about…" she stammered, annoyed that she was having such trouble voicing her thoughts.

"Oh just come _out_ with it Hermione," Ron said, looking slightly confounded that she was struggling so.

"I want to talk about us!" She exclaimed hotly, louder than she meant to; causing Ron to pull up short, a look of nervous anticipation blanketing his face. Glancing around, she saw two second years pause at the top of the stairs leading to the seventh floor corridor, eyes wide at her outburst.

She felt her cheeks flush with heat and was sure they were tinged pink at her loud vocalization.

' _Very discrete, well done Hermione,_ _'_ she chastised herself, before exhaling in a huff and grabbing Ron's wrist; tugging him in the direction of the Room of Requirement.

"Right, erm… That'd be… But didn't you _also_ need the library?" Ron asked, sounding slightly confused as she was leading them _completely_ in the wrong direction.

"I want to have this discussion in _private_ , not out here for everyone and their pet dragon to listen in on." She said, terser than she'd intended. She was frustrated with how she'd blurted this out and wanted to get somewhere where they could chat without an audience.

As they made their way down the corridor, they passed a small girl carrying an absurd number of books; stacked so high she could barely see the poor girl's face. As Hermione brushed past her, the girl dropped a few of them, emitting a loud squeak before re-piling the lot and scurrying off.

"They're so twitchy and _innocent_ when they're small and young." Said Ron, seeming to find the girl's behaviour amusing. "Surely we were never like that — in fact, I know we weren't. We were getting into trouble, fighting off trolls, spiders, murderous rats and ..." he trailed off, his smile sliding off his mouth at remembering all they'd faced and lost throughout the years.

Hermione shot him a knowing glance as she continued leading him down the corridor.

Arriving at the blank spot in the wall, Hermione let go of Ron's wrist and walked three times in front of the vast expanse, her frustration mounting when the door to the room wouldn't appear before her.

' _I was just in here mere hours ago…'_ she thought, _'Why is this room sealed? Who could be in there?'_

She knew from the previous year's DA meetings that if the room was in use; unless the outsider knew the intent and reason the room had sealed itself, it would not open.

She ground her teeth and held back a groan. This was _not_ going to plan, and she was slowly running out of patience with herself to remain tactful. She just wanted to get this _over_ with, but knew this had to be handled delicately to preserve their friendship.

"Well, someone's _obviously_ using the room." Ron stated, before muttering, "I hope _they_ _'re_ putting it to good use…" Hermione glanced over at him. He'd shoved his hands in his pockets and was looking down at the ground.

As if feeling her eyes on him, Ron raised his gaze and looked up and down the now deserted corridor before turning and walking toward a set of windows with a stone bench beneath the sill.

She followed, coming to rest beside him as he pointed to the bench.

"Why don't we talk here, yeah? It's relatively private… As long as you're not _yelling_ ," he joked, flashing her a grin; her face flushing with slight indignation, as his comment _could_ be referencing her momentary outburst _or_ their typical rhythm of shouting annoyances at each other.

"Har har," said Hermione sarcastically, matching his grin. They settled themselves upon the stone slab; Hermione angling her body toward his but careful to maintain an adequate distance between them so as to not give off the wrong impression of intent.

"So…" Ron began, looking nervous again. "You wanted to talk, about us… What… what do you _mean_ by that Hermione?" He looked at her with an expression so hopeful that her heart tugged slightly knowing she'd be bruising his momentarily.

"I want to get things out in the open. Clear the air, set things… straight…" she began. His expression shifted to one of slight wariness at her choice of words and Ron crossed his arms; leaning back against the cool stone in affected nonchalance.

"Alright…"

"This is awkward enough if I have assumed wrong. So _please_ , correct me if I've misinterpreted anything." She paused, fidgeting a moment before continuing. "Ron, I've noticed — since the ministry — your behaviour has… _changed_ toward me. I can't put my finger on _how_ exactly — I mean, we still fight and argue just as much as we always have — but I've noticed you being more… attentive… lately, for lack of a better qualifier." She paused for his reaction.

When Ron didn't say anything, only nodding slightly at her words — sub-consciously it appeared — she continued. "I don't want to presume, but I'm inclined to believe your attentiveness is… is because you wish something to happen romantically; between _us_ I mean." Ron smiled up at her cautiously at this, and her heart cracked slightly. "Ron, I'm…Oh _Merlin_ this is… I'm _extremely_ flattered and I want you to know that I don't want what I'm about to say to change _anything_ between us…" She looked at him beseechingly, his face becoming instantly guarded. Hermione pressed on quickly before he could speak.

"I do _love_ you Ron, I feel I have for a long time… but only, only as a _friend_. One of my _best_ friends, but that's all I feel… I'm… I'm really sorry." She paused, and took his hand gingerly, wanting to offer whatever comfort she could as she let him down gently. She felt relief when he didn't pull away, but she noticed the stiffness in which he sat. "I didn't want to lead you on or make you feel like there was a possibility, as I knew my feelings weren't going to change in the direction you wished. I never want to lose your friendship, _especially_ over possible misunderstandings or miscommunication." Squeezing his hand she released it, returning her own to her lap.

Ron was silent, just staring at Hermione.

"Why… why not Hermione? I thought, with everything that happened last year. And this past summer, when you came over, I thought. I mean, I hoped…" He trailed off, looking slightly lost as he appeared to contemplate what possible reason she could have for not wanting to date him.

She sighed. "I'm not going to lie, I _had_ wished at the beginning of fourth year that we may have… progressed, into something more than friends… But then the Yule Ball happened, and your reaction to everything, and then Viktor —"

She was cut off as Ron spat out angrily "Bloody _Krum!_ _"_

"Wha —" she began, but Ron continued.

"What does _that_ git have to do with this?"

"Considering he was my boyfriend for just over a year," She shot back, annoyed. "Viktor is _perfectly_ relevant to this conversation, Ronald. And your reaction, just now, is one of the reasons I threw cold water onto my earlier feelings. You just can't _not_ be a prat about Viktor…"

"Boyfriend?" Ron said incredulously, standing. "I _knew_ you weren't just pen pals! Knew you were lying about _that_. Did you end up visiting him at his home in Romania then? Did Krum _seek_ to steal more than just the _snitch_?" She knew his temper masked a bruised ego and hurt, but his comments really _were_ bordering the line, and Merlin help him if he crossed it.

Hermione stood now too and bit out. _"What_ I've done and _who_ I've done it with is _none_ of your concern. Regardless of the fact that what Viktor and I had is now over, I'd appreciate if you'd stop harping on about that 'Bloody Krum' nonsense. It's getting quite stale." She shot him a pointed glance before softening her tone as she attempted to steer the conversation back to neutral calmer territory.

"Now," She said, a bit calmer, "before you say something to me that you _will_ regret; let's get back to why I wanted to talk with you — _alone_. I _wanted_ to do you the courtesy of talking to you about… your potential feelings toward me… before things became too publicly awkward between us, as I _don_ _'t_ feel the same way…"

Ron was quiet now though still remained standing, appearing to stew quietly. She was unsure if it was her comment about Viktor or about something else that had his brain whirring.

"I won't…" Ron appeared to gag on the words he was gathering to his tongue, then restarted with more certainty. "I won't harp on _Viktor_ anymore… It just, it's bloody _hard_ , yeah? Always feeling _second_ to others… Wishing I'd asked you first, or even realized that I _wanted_ to ask you back then, had I not been a _prat_ about the whole thing."

Sitting back down beside her, Ron turned and raised his eyes to hers; the amount of emotion shining back at her had her drawing in a sharp breath.

"But as to you not feeling the same way…yet? What if we tried getting to know each other… in that way? Not as Harry's mates, not as mates ourselves…You mentioned having feelings before. Maybe they just need a bit of a spark to reignite them… What if I took you to Hogsmeade, next trip? As a date?" He moved closer to her on the bench and lowered his face toward hers. He looked so earnest that as his eyelids began to close and his face began to tilt toward hers; she felt justified in doing what she did next.

She put her hand up between them, and Ron ended up bestowing a kiss to her raised palm.

He pulled back, his face red at her calling out his blundered advance.

"Ron" she said gently, "That won't make any difference. I'm flattered, but there is no _'yet_.' And I don't foresee there _ever_ being one. I'm… off the market; though I'm _loath_ to use that term as I am _not_ a commodity to be bartered for. But even if I _wasn_ _'t_ taken, I still don't have any romantic inclinations toward you. I'm sorry, but I don't know how much clearer I can be about that." She really was sorry, she hated hurting him. He wasn't a bad person, and would make someone else a good boyfriend.

Just not her.

His face fell before taking on a facade of dejected resignation at hearing her romantic standing. Standing up from the bench once more, he began to pace in front of where she remained sitting.

"I always hoped, but thought it was a slim chance you'd go for me." He finally said with a shrug after a long beat of silence at her admission. "You're destined for greatness Hermione, and I would end up holding you back. I'm just a lazy stupid sidekick." He kicked his foot out and struck the base of the bench lightly.

"Oi! That's one of my best mates you're bashing." She said exasperatedly, trying to raise his spirits by joking, before saying seriously. "Really Ron, you have talents, you just lack the _confidence_ in your delivery… There _is_ a reason you, Harry and I work so well as a team, you know. We balance each other with our strengths and in our weaknesses. You are _not_ just a sidekick, and though you have your… lazy moments, you are not _stupid_."

Ron sat down and leaned his head back against the window pane, closing his eyes and rubbing his hands along his face. He looked drained, as if the happiness had been sucked right out of him.

"Are we… is our friendship still… alright?" She asked tentatively, reaching across to touch his arm. Ron opened his eyes and looked at her sadly.

"Yeah Hermione, we're square. I… I appreciate you telling me, before I made a right prat of myself publicly. Nothing would give Malfoy or the Slytherins more pleasure than having witnesses you blocking my romantic advances. Can I ask…" He coughed, looking torn.

"Yes?"

"Who's the bloke? I mean, it _is_ a bloke…right?" He raised and eyebrow and looked at her curiously.

"Well, they're certainly not a witch or kneazle. And they aren't fictitious, if _that_ _'s_ what you're implying Ronald," She retorted, before lowering her eyes; feeling her face flame as thoughts of earlier filtered through her consciousness.

No, there was _nothing_ fictitious about Fred and George…

"As to whom I'm seeing, can I… It's just, it's all rather new; and I'd _prefer_ if I can have a couple of days to just savour it privately… I _will_ tell you, honest, but right now I'd prefer to keep that knowledge to myself for the time being." She noticed Ron didn't pick up on the fact she'd said 'whom' not who, and let out a small sigh in relief at this.

"I guess…" Said Ron a bit begrudgingly.

"Does it help a bit at least, possessing knowledge of something Harry doesn't," she asked.

"Harry doesn't know about you seeing someone?" Ron asked incredulously… "I would have thought, with the map and all…"

"Harry doesn't know I'm dating at all," She replied evasively, smirking as his mouth curved into a triumphant smile.

"You know what Hermione," Ron said smiling, "It does, it really does."

"I'd appreciate it if you could refrain from telling him. You know Harry, he'll go into 'inquisitorial squad mode' to find out the details, and I really don't feel like sharing those at the moment. Would you please… just, keep this between us for now?"

"Sure Hermione, but I think he's a tad too obsessed with Malfoy right now to add finding out your secret to the his agenda," Ron said and they shared exasperated looks at Harry's current obsession with the blond Slytherin's actions. "Though you will… you'll eventually tell us who it is right? I mean, we _are_ your _best_ mates… And as much shite as I gave you about _Krum_ ," at this Hermione speared him with a look to which he rolled his eyes good-naturedly, "Yes, yes, alright — that I still give, though I'll work on it — but… we are still mates, and if you're _happy_ , well… Just, I don't want you hurt yeah?"

Hermione looked at her friend, her heartwarming as he ran his hands through his hair — _'I wonder if he picked up that mannerism from Fred,'_ she thought bemusedly — in protective contemplation. She found it a tad ironic that the majority of her emotionally distraught moments happened because he let his tongue dictate his words and not his brain… But the sentiment was sweet. Maybe his teaspoon was growing this year.

"I'm going to remember you saying these words Ronald Weasley… And when the day comes I reveal whom I'm dating… just know that I will remember, and I will call on you to honor them." She gave him a smile, and something about it must have unsettled him as his expression did a double take.

"Wha —" he began, but she cut him off.

"For being such a _supportive_ friend" She began, watching as his face scrunched up in wariness at her emotional, "What if I told you I know for a fact there's a witch — an _attractive_ witch — that fancied you? One friend to another, I know you have _very_ decent odds of landing a date with this one…"

"Who —" he began, his eyes widening at her teasing.

"I'm not going to say. You can do your own leg work, or else you don't deserve her affections." She laughed. "Although I think you'll find yourself enjoying her affections quite nicely."

"Hermione," Ron groaned. "Now you're just being cruel."

"No, I'm being fair — to you _and_ her. We've just sorted out _this_ ," she waved her hand between them, "And I'd hate for you to just transfer your affections to someone you know could _potentially_ be a sure thing… You're better than that. _She_ _'s_ worth more than that. Deserves more than that."

Ron sat there, his face screwed up in contemplation before his eyes narrowed on her, "You walked into the common room earlier with Lavender, and you both were laughing about something. Is it her?" His face seemed to perk up a bit at this possibility, his face showing the same level of hope he had at the beginning of the conversation when he thought Hermione would return his interest.

' _Oh yes, he's terribly heartbroken at my rejection.'_ She though sardonically, _'how will he ever get over me…'_

"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies Ron," She said, quoting Fred from when she'd grilled them about the funds for their shop last year.

Ron huffed. "Annoying know-it-all."

"Ruddy Git." She shot back, and they exchanged relaxed grins. Moving off the bench, they began rounds, albeit a tad earlier than normal.

Things were settled between them, _'at least presently_ ,' she mused. She anticipated some rockiness once Ron found out _whom_ she was dating — nothing like keeping it all in the family — and she _was_ glad she'd put that off for another day. She wasn't lying. She really did want to bask in private happiness as long as she could. She'd eek out every possible honeyed minute before the other shoe dropped.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

The next couple of days passed relatively quickly for Hermione. Things between Ron and her were slightly stilted and somewhat perfunctory since their conversation in the hallway as they resettled themselves back into the familiar friendship of years past, but they were finding their rhythm again; and her, Pavarti and Lavender were going through a period of re-acquaintance as things between her and her two dorm mates became less antagonistic and more friendly. Her dorm had stopped being a place she sought out only for slumber, and she found herself looking forward to having a chat with the girls before lights out and sometimes even before classes. Life continued to travel along at the frenetic pace established at the beginning of the year, and Hermione was doing her best to juggle all her commitments while also taking the time for her increased socialization that _didn_ _'t_ revolve around Harry and Ron.

She flew through her school work at lunch and after class, ensuring she remained top of her year — still refusing to consider Harry's position in potions class valid — and worked on a side project she'd decided to embark on that would assist in meeting up with Fred and George as well as communicating without the need for owls.

She owled the twins another coded message Monday morning to let them know of her planned visit to the shack later in the week — Thursday looked to be feasible — which would be three days _after_ their first date and three days _before_ the first Hogsmeade Trip.

Not that she was counting… or anticipating Thursday with an excitement that kept her almost tingling in her seat...

She knew that the first visit of the year to Hogsmeade would be with Ron and Harry as per tradition, and she wasn't banking on an opportunity arising where she could slip away unnoticed with that many students milling about. She was disappointed that she couldn't see more of them, like she would have if they'd still been students; but knew that right now, even seeing them once or twice a week would be incredible allowance of time. She knew she was free to use the shack for her own purposes even if they couldn't make it, but she desperately hoped they'd be able to make later that week.

She received their reply at lunch that same day; what appeared to be a quickly scrawled note that she'd read right away, along with a package they instructed her to open later. In private. Those two words sent a shiver down her spine in anticipation. Tucking the package in her bag, she folded the note and waved her wand over it; casting a spell that ensured no prying eyes could read their words. Glancing up, she noticed Ginny staring at her with barley suppressed interest; apparently having witnessed Hermione's face redden as she read the note.

"Who's the owl from Hermione?" Harry asked, and Ron looked at her pointedly.

"My parents," She replied, shooting a quelling look at Ron; silently directing him not to comment.

He merely raised an eyebrow at her inferred command and what — to his belief — was clearly a fib; piping in with a tone of faux- innocence, "You sure communicate with your _parents_ a lot this year, Hermione…"

She glared at him as he chuckled and returned to his meal; leaving her having to assure Harry things at home were _indeed_ well and dodging reasons _why_ she was in frequent correspondence with her 'parents' this year. In reality, she'd only exchanged two letters with her parents so far this year; one upon arriving at the castle as was her custom, the other replying to their birthday gift and card. The sad part about the muggle side of her life was that, despite loving her parents fiercely, they didn't understand her magical world. And as she strove to protect them each year from the harsh realities that befell her and her friends, she found herself becoming more and more distant from them as a result. And Ron, the infuriating prat, knew _none_ of this; so had no way of knowing the emotional turmoil he'd stirred within her by his offhand comment.

' _Bloody Ron and his sodding mouth,'_ she thought in frustration, shoveling her meal faster into her mouth than normal to escape Ron's amused gaze — _'he really is enjoying knowing something Harry isn't privy to'_ she mused — and Harry's politely quizzical one. She suspected Harry was aware of the undercurrents between her and Ron, but understood him well enough to know that he wouldn't pry unless it affected him directly. Though even then… he probably wouldn't. If there was one thing she could count on, it was Harry's awkwardness in discussing _feelings_ , and she was taking _full_ advantage of that right now. She finished swiftly and gathered her things in preparation to leave the hall; muttering a quick 'see you later' to the two wizards still eating.

"What'd they say, what'd they say?" Ginny demanded as she sidled up next to her, both witches heading toward the door leading out of the Great Hall. She pestered her continuously as the students around them began also heading out of the hall and to their classes after lunch.

"Keep your voice down Gin," Hermione admonished, glancing around. Harry and Ron were still finishing up at the table, and Pavarti and Lavender were standing behind the two chatting them up while they ate. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"They're all going to find out soon enough, but it's your life, I'm just a voyeur… Now, what set your cheeks all aflame back there?"

Hermione blushed. She was _not_ about to repeat the message Ginny's brother's had sent her. Not aloud. And never to another person. It wasn't so much the words themselves, but the impact they landed upon her. They were for her and her alone.

"They sent me a gift, I'm to open it tonight while alone…" She said, glancing sideways through lidded eyes, a smile dancing at the corners of her mouth. "Do you think this… package… will facilitate the need for their bruise remover paste?" she joked, and watched as Ginny blanched at this comment.

"Boundaries Granger! These are _still_ my brothers we're discussing," she hissed in pseudo-annoyed undertones, and Hermione laughed.

"I just wondered, Ginny," She said innocently, "if it will be like that telescope that punched me in the eye this summer… Merlin, that product of theirs sure knew how to deliver a pounding." She opened her eyes wide at her friend and Ginny burst into raucous laughter; drawing attention their way from passing students.

"Oh Merlin…" She said, holding her side from laughing so hard. "If I wasn't sure before, I _definitely_ am now… There is _no one_ out there more suited for those two than you. You are going to have your hands full; literally I'm assuming, based on how many brothers I have, and figuratively. You are just the witch to undertake that challenge.

' _And she cautions_ me _about boundaries,_ _'_ she thought to herself, chuckling at Ginny's innuendo.

"Literally, figuratively, under, over, in-between… rest assured I will _definitely_ take them; and will relish in that challenge," Hermione said with a smirk and a wink; and on that parting note, the two witches went their separate ways for their afternoon lessons.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

Later that night, after hours spent on homework and working on her little side project that she'd dubbed 'The twin magnet,' Hermione made sure Lavender and Pavarti were still in the common room as she made her way upstairs to their room. _'In Private'_ , the note had said. So, climbing onto her bed and drawing the curtains for discretion; she set her sac on the covers and made herself comfortable. After reading their note earlier she was eagerly anticipating what was inside their package. Opening her sack, she pulled out the subtle package wrapped in discrete packaging and the note she'd read earlier. Tapping her wand against it, the words re-wrote themselves on the parchment, becoming visible once more as she lifted her earlier spell work. Settling back against her pillows, she began to reread their words.

 **— 000—**

 _Dearest Granger,_ **girl we call ours** _and a_ _beautiful muse,_

' _We saw this in a_ _'product reconnaissance excursion,' the other day and thought, first: how can we improve upon said product, because, you know; business excursion and all those trivialities._ **Then we thought — what witch or wizard would benefit from our version of this delightful product — and our minds (collectively) went to you: our lovely Hermione** **…**

 _We anticipate you need something to occupy your time_ **and hands** _while away from us,_ _stuck as you are up there in your tower_ **(now picture us us all alone in our flat, missing you, creating products with you in mind to occupy our own)** … _So we tinkered with the original, and believe our adjustments will be substantially rewarding_ **, especially rewarding for you once you** **'ve sorted it out…**

 _Our only request is that you_ _open this package somewhere alone,_ **In Private** _; for our sake and yours, as we know those around you are nosy gits_ , **and, as we haven** **'t yet brought this line to the public stage, we wouldn't want anyone** _but you_ **handling it yet.** _Not only do we trust you fully with our intellectual and business property,_ **the end result of this specific product** **'s tinkering is of a more…** _personal nature,_ **and as such, would do no good for anyone but you to experience the** **… finished result.**

 _Though no interludes to a secluded bath are required for this package, we aren_ _'t against that visual…_

 **So if you do so desire that location,** _as you attempt to solve the puzzle;_ **we would be ever so appreciative in a thorough description of any activities undertaken during this interlude. Completely for research purposes you understand Granger;** _yes, for research purposes only_ _… but for what you ask? Well, that is the question for you to mull over, our dear Hermione…_

 **Now, our wonderful,** _incredible_ _witch,_ _we present to you:_ **a captivating puzzle** **…** _to delight and tantalize your senses_ **and your brain. You may see it and think,** _'these two are off their rocker.'_ **But rest assured,** _we are indeed of sound mind,_ **and you can test the soundness of our bodies on Thursday if you so** **…desire…**

 _Now, enough of this parchment foreplay —_ **this parchment to be quite... dry... and frustratingly non-reciprocal —** _you have a puzzle to unlock our darling._

 **~Yours, assuredly** _and unequivocally_

 _Waiting impatiently;_ **counting down the days** **…**

 _F &_ **G**

 **— 000—**

When Hermione finished re-reading the note for a _third_ time, she tapped her wand upon the message; clearing the words once more from the parchment before dropping the blank note into the top drawer of her side table. Turning to the box in front of her, she hesitated for the minutest of seconds before tearing into the package. Digging through the magenta tissue inside the box, she drew up short when she saw what was nestled amongst the wrappings before falling into a fit of giggles…

This… _puzzle_ _…_ they were _right_ when they intimated she'd wonder about their sanity… This was now just one more reason for her to anticipate Thursday's foray down to the Whomping Willow. It also furthered her determination to finish her _own_ little project that she'd begun that evening.

Grinning, she started pulling items from her sac and, arranging them on her bed; resumed the work she'd begun earlier on _her_ gift for the two wizards who'd carved a twin sized niche in her heart.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **A/N: Thank you so much to all those who reviewed last chapter. Your comments keep this gal smiling and her muse eating cake... Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and look forward to hearing your thoughts.**

 **Next up: Hermione's second date with the twins... ;)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer** :

The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and Scholastic. All canon characters, plots, quotes and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

 **Rating warning** :

Rated M for scenes of inferred and of a potentially explicit sexual nature

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **Chapter 9**

Not wanting to arouse Harry's suspicion by asking yet again for both the cloak _and_ the map, Hermione decided disillusionment was the answer for invisibility this go round. Thursday following supper, she made her escape from the Gryffindor common room with her standard excuse — the library — Ron and Harry waving her off and looking slightly relieved that she was leaving them alone to play Wizards Chess; not lecture them on starting their _own_ homework. Walking partway up the girl's stairs, she ensured the coast was clear both up and down the stairs; before quickly disillusioning herself and hurrying up the stairs to the boys' dorm instead. Creeping across the 6th year dorm to what was _obviously_ Harry's bed and side table; she quickly nicked the map from Harry's trunk without disrupting his other belongings with a silent 'accio,' before she quietly saw herself back downstairs. She figured if Harry noticed the map missing — though unlikely — she could pretend to either have found it and return it after class, saying it slipped out of his bag, or have him 'find' it himself later…

Quickly and quietly, she made her way out the portrait hole, down to the front doors, and; ensuring no one was around — via the map and her own two eyes — pulled open one of the doors just enough for her to slip through. Despite being invisible, she knew how suspicious it'd look for the door to randomly open.

' _Thank Merlin it's not snowing,'_ she thought to herself as she made her way quickly down toward the willow. 'I'll have to remember to vanish my footprints when it does…'

Arriving just outside the Willow's sensory range, she paused and rustled around in her pockets. Pulling out the 'Willow Whisperer' as Fred had called it, Hermione placed it on the ground and watched as the little beetle-like product scurried toward the towering tree and under toward the massive root structure. Just as she was sure it hadn't worked, she saw a slight glow emanate from where the entrance lay. George had informed her that was the signal to move and move quickly, as she'd only have moments — according to Remus — to get into the tunnel undetected by the tree.

Glancing around to ensure no eyes were watching, she fled in the direction of the entrance.

Standing just inside the passageway, she noticed that, similar to the corridor and second floor landing, this too had been cleaned of the cobwebs and decay of years and occupants past. '

 _Fred and George really do wish to make this a safe comfortable place for me,_ _'_ she thought, tears springing to her eyes at their thoughtfulness.

What had they said? Right — 'that they would be a safe harbour that she could bend or break against. That they didn't _need_ her to be strong with them, she could just be. And that they accepted that to 'just be' entailed her being a ' _swotty, know-it-all, prefect_ _'_ who protected others, and that they supported this fully and uncompromisingly.'

Brushing away the tears of warmth at the emotion these words conjured within; she quickly made her way out of the tunnel, through the main floor and up to the second room. She could see a glow escape from under the door, and her stomach flipped in anticipation of what and whom lay beyond the door.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

Opening the door slowly so she could observe the wizards silently before announcing her presence, she saw the room was set up as it'd been three days before; with the exception of the food on the table. Now, instead of food, there was…a teapot and mugs, with biscuits and a small smattering of fruit. She noticed Fred perusing the book self and George… George was standing right in front of the door. Staring _straight_ at her. Caught in her silent perusal, she pushed the door open fully before throwing her book sac to the side, flinging herself into the room and against the wizard in front of her.

"Welco—" his greeting was cut short by her eager hungry lips. They first crashed against his with limited finesse, her desperation to taste him overriding _everything_ in their quest to reacquaint themselves with his touch; before settling into the rhythm George had established on their last date. Her body trembled with suppressed need; a mewled growl escaping her lips as George lifted her up and into his arms, not breaking the kiss as he did so. She hadn't changed out of her uniform before heading down to the shack, and she was distantly aware of her uniform's skirt riding up as she wrapped her stocking clad legs around him. His hands molded to her backside, each palm cupping a cheek as he pressed her closer and more securely to his frame before moving across the room.

She felt herself moving along with him as he made their way to stand in front of where she'd last seen Fred; her body's movement against his own creating a delightful friction which set her senses aflame. George continued kissing her like the captain of a capsized ship; desperate, yet still able to retain control. His fingers tightened on her rear slightly before _slowly_ lowering her to the floor, nipping her bottom lip as he reined in their kiss. As she was lowered down, she felt every flexing muscle of his tighten against her body; as well as evidence indicating he'd _prefer_ to keep their heated snog going. She felt a flash of desire and pride hit her at this tactile discovery, almost overpowering her in its intensity. George chuckled, as if he knew what she was feeling, and; gently ending the kiss, pressed his forehead to hers while breathing out, "Bloody hell, what a _brilliant_ welcome."

Hermione's eyes, which had been closed during their snog and at the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm her; slid open at his spoken greeting and she stared into the heated gaze of George before she felt someone shift behind her. Not touching her, but she could feel a presence. She turned her face to look over her shoulder, her eyes meeting Fred's, who stood just slightly out of reach behind her. Waiting patiently for his turn to welcome her; his eyes smoldering and now focused squarely on her lips. She shivered at that look; at the penetrating intensity of his gaze, and her inner fire flashed brighter.

Spinning her head back around, she flashed George a smile and bestowed a quick peck on his lips.

"Fred looks lonely," She murmured, and she felt George turn her once again to face his brother.

"You'll make him less lonely" he quietly commanded; his tone sending another shiver down her spine.

Having turned her away from him and toward Fred, she felt him retreat. Dropping his arms smoothly, George made his way to the bookshelf, picking a book at what appeared to be random; and fell into the chair he'd commandeered last time.

Hermione all but glided forward to stand in front of Fred, who hadn't moved since she'd stepped away from George; his gaze never drifting nor any less intense as he stared at her. He licked and bit his lip as his mouth settled into a predatory grin, and her inner coil tightened at the flash of wet tongue and teeth.

Reaching out, she grasped the front of his shirt with her left hand; walking the fingers of her right up the centre of his button-down shirt slowly, teasingly, inch by frustrating inch, before securing first that hand then the other around Fred's neck. Pressing her body as close as she possibly could against his, she looked at him from beneath her lashes. As she invaded his personal bubble, Fred's hands automatically moved to circle her waist, coming to rest at the small of her back; skimming her skin where her shirt had un-tucked itself from her skirt. His thumbs rubbed a pattern along her spine, his breath fanning her face as he leaned his face near hers; lips halting, a hairs breath from touching.

"It's good to _see_ you, Hermione…" He said softly, reverently.

"Fred," she breathed out, yearning saturating that one word, and that was all it took for Fred to capture her mouth with his. Their tongues danced and duelled as before, her fingers threading themselves through his hair as the texture of his lips, his hair, the roughened material of his slacks through her stockings set her body more on fire than it already was.

"Please," she murmured out — desperately, craving _more_ — and she was spun, her back pressed now against the bookshelf instead of air; scraping against a row of their bound collections, Fred's body covering hers. She heard a book fall the ground and for the first time in her life, did not care one iota about the outcome and condition of whatever book fell.

One of Fred's hands encased both of hers, pinning them against the shelf above her head, his other held her hips to his while his mouth trailed scorching kisses along her jaw line toward her earlobe. He lavished attention to her lobe, her throat, her neck… before nipping at her collarbone. His hands remained where they were, effectively pinning her in place. She was severely overheating, her senses firing on all cylinders, her body craving… more… She ground against him, feeling a very prominent bulge against her through her skirt and a thrill shot through her. Fred groaned as she rolled her hips again, returning his mouth to the flesh of her ear; giving it a quick nip before easing back slightly, looking her directly in her slowly opening eyes as he kept his lower half pressed snugly against hers.

She heard a whimper escape from her throat at this and a deep husky chuckle echo in the room. George.

Her eyes flew open fully and she gasped, pulling herself away from Fred, and wrapping her arms around herself. As quickly as her flames of desire had ignited; so too did they recede. She felt as if she'd stepped into a cold shower; though without the water to comfort her with its fluid blanket, it felt more like the burn of liquid nitrogen stripping away her layers of stability. She felt exposed and vulnerable. Unsure. It was a feeling she detested.

"George, I'm…" she looked at him desperately, unsure of how to broach the words that were spinning around in her head. She knew the snog between her and Fred had become… _more_ , but as lost in the moment as she'd been; she'd also been aware that another pair of arms, lips, _fingers_ had been missing… That the itch beneath her skin wasn't being completely satisfied by _just_ Fred alone. Despite her own knowledge though, she thought about how it appeared and she didn't want George to feel left out or that she wanted Fred over him.

She noticed Fred staring at her in concern as she wrenched herself from his embrace, but George just stared at her with gentle understanding. Flicking his gaze as Fred, he sent a look at his twin that — in her peripheral — she could see Fred's posture change and comprehension dawn on his face as well.

"Hermione, love, please come here," George said, closing the book he'd had open on his lap and standing from his chair; holding out his hand for her to take. "Fred, can you…" He trailed off, another nod to Fred and a jerk of his head toward the other two chairs in the room before returning his gaze to Hermione. She saw Fred move toward to the two chairs across from where George stood; and, waving his wand, the chairs vanished and an overstuffed, over-sized sofa appeared in their stead. Fred perched on one end, staring at George and waiting…

Averting her eyes from the new piece of furniture, she made her way toward George, her eyes lowering in apprehension. Gone was the bold confidence of moments prior; now she felt as gauche and exposed as a third grader awakening from her first wet dream to her roommates giggles.

Coming to rest in front of George, she placed her hand in his.

"Hermione," George said softly, "Look at me." The words were spoken in that same soft tone, but she heard the underlying command; instinctively reacting she sighed and set her shoulders in preparation for his predicted rebuke before raising her eyes to his. She was shocked to see not hurt, anger or jealousy, but desire — hot, raw, molten in its intensity. Desire… and understanding…

Holding her hand with one of his own, he reached up and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear before trailing a finger down her neck. His lips quirked as he felt her shudder under his touch.

"Do you know how… bloody _hot_ that was for me… watching you two?" Apparently her gaze reflected her internal surprise that he _wasn_ _'t_ mad he hadn't been included in that moment of intimacy, for his face split into an earth-shattering smile and he pulled her into a hug.

"You beautiful, sweet, wonderful witch… You have _nothing_ to fret over…" he murmured into her hair, and she felt her body relax at his words.

"Come… sit with us…" Fred said from the sofa and George led her over, depositing her on the middle cushion before positioning himself at the end opposite Fred; body tilted toward her.

Almost as if they'd been given access to the memories of her dream, Fred picked up her feet and placed them in his lap; his actions twisting her body so her back was against George's chest; replicating their positioning in the prefects bath. She felt her face heat up at the memory and she wondered if the sofa would prove as… facilitating.

She felt George's arms wrap themselves around her, hands settling on her stomach, cheek pressed against her hair. Fred was tracing circles on her left ankle, his head held up by his other hand, elbow on the arm of the sofa. Staring at her. At her against George. Very innocent, very benign. So… natural. Her previously doused inferno reignited at the contact, simmering to a low heat that was only kept at bay by her present insecurities and doubts.

"Do you trust us Hermione," asked Fred, and her eyes flew to his.

"Yes," she replied immediately, knowing it was the truth. For all their differences in the past, despite her infuriation at their ability to constantly flout the laws and rules of the establishment with little to no consequence; she did trust them. She trusted them especially with _this_ — with her body — her heart…

"Then why," asked George, and she felt him shift a bit behind her so that he was able to turn her chin and look down at her face. "Why did my chuckle break you out of the moment you were clearly enjoying with Feddy here?"

"I…" She began, feeling her face heat again as she thought of how to put into her words the feelings and thoughts that had flooded through her in that moment.

As her eyes began to lower once more she heard, "Eyes Granger."

She snapped her gaze back to George's and bit out, "I didn't want… I mean, that snog took on a life of its own, and I didn't want you to feel… feel left out. Or that I was preferring one over the other."

She could feel George sigh at her words and Fred said, "Hermione, love, we _thought_ we'd been clear when we described our intentions, our… _expectations_ _…_ on our last date. We both want _you_ , and that means _your_ happiness, _your_ time; in whatever way that gives _you_ pleasure." Her eyes had sought his as he spoke and she saw earnestness and sincerity written across his face.

"There is no jealousy here Hermione, not between us," George added and his eyes flicked over to Fred. "After our last date, we knew where your feelings stood about _both_ of us, but knew you'd need time to figure out where we all comfortably fit together. Not just… physically, but in this capacity as well. Your feelings are a lot newer than ours, and though we've had… partners for more, _sexually driven_ relations; we've never been with someone on _this_ level. Where we care about _more_ than just their physical pleasures."

"You're going to have to be patient with me," she said, a bit frustrated at herself for not being as… comfortable or knowledgeable as they were apparently in this situation. "This is the first time I've been with… two wizards. I don't know the _rules_ , the protocols… I-I don't want to…" Here she broke off and scooted away from both of them. Tucking her feet beneath her, she sat cross legged and wrapped her arms around herself. Both Fred and George instantly tilted their bodies toward her but didn't crowd her, giving her space for which she appreciated.

"You don't want to what, Hermione," Fred said gently, leaning forward but not touching her.

"I don't want to _hurt_ either of you… I don't want to fail… at _this_ , before we even begin." She said, her tone bordering on pleading desperation as her hands tightened into knots in her lap.

"There _are_ no rules, love. Except for the basics," George said, and at his words her head snapped up to zero in on his face.

"The _basics_ ," she repeated. "Pray tell, what are those? One shalt not wear socks to bed?"

The twins burst into chuckles at her dry wit despite her unease, and Hermione felt some of her stiffness and insecurities slip away at the ease of their laughter.

Fred clarified, "He _means_ , the vague git, the basics of _any_ relationship. Respect, kindness, honesty and trust."

"Oh…" she said, and felt foolish for assuming there'd be actual hard rules regarding the type of relationship they were entering.

"There is no _should_ or _assumptions_ of behaviour Hermione. As George mentioned, we've never involved our hearts before when… enjoying a mutually satisfying encounter. This is new territory for us as well, in that regard. We only know what we like, and who we want to share that with."

"And that, my dear, is you." Said George, tapping her on the noes.

"I just feel like… what I do for _one_ should be given to the other as well and —" She was cut off by Fred's sigh.

"I see now why you'd assume that Hermione, how you'd be afraid of a _perceived_ preference if _everything_ isn't… doled out _equally_." Said Fred.

"But the problem with that, love, is that we are _different_ people with _different_ appetites and if _everything_ is catalogued to being _equal_ , that removes the fun,"

"The spontaneity,"

"The excitement"

"The ability to lavish affection on you how we both desire." Finished Fred, and slung an arm around the back of the sofa behind her, fingers dancing a sporadic pattern on her shoulder.

"And we're not just talking about all the things we want to do with you on this sofa," George piped in.

"Or a bed, against a wall," continued Fred, waggling his eyebrows.

"Or the floor… We're really not fussed where," said George, and she giggled. "We're talking about the time we spend with clothes on… here, in the outside world."

"The burrow," Said Fred, and her face lost a bit of color at that hurdle they'd have to face in their unveiling of their relationship.

"We mean it when we say we want it all Hermione. Full on relationship. And relationships are give and take. Depending on your mood, one of us might be more in line with what you're craving, emotionally or physically," said George.

"And intellectually, we know you'll always choose me, as all know I'm the brains of the operation," Fred boasted and Hermione rolled her eyes while George threw a pillow at him.

"But not being in the immediate action that doesn't mean the other feels inferior or punted aside." George pinned her with a look that had her insides doing flips. "Did you know, Hermione; that one of the things that _really_ gets me going is watching? Oh I'll join in, eventually, don't doubt that; but _watching_ you turn to jelly at the hands of another… it really… yeah, it does something for me."

"He can also be a bossy git at times too," said Fred, and Hermione felt a shiver of desire at the thought of being bossed around by George while being surrounded by Fred. Her mind scrambled to assimilate and process everything they'd just explained, and as she sat there, surrounded by these two wonderful insightful wizards, she decided to lighten the mood and do as they say; shrugging off her unease and perceived expectations.

"So _instead_ of thinking I should be sucking you _both_ off simultaneously, I should be thinking more along the lines of, 'one goes down on me while I pleasure the other with my mouth'…" Her mouth slanted up in a cat who ate the canary smile, and her eyes flashed with mirth as Fred and George exchanged glances and Fred emitted a growl.

"Precisely." Said Fred

"We knew your brilliant mind would catch on. There are no rules Hermione." Confirmed George, and a part of her felt free at knowing there were no rules between them that would restrain her desires or intentions.

"There's no rush, our dear. We will figure this out, one day, one date at a time. But other than you running off with another bloke," Began Fred.

"Or witch," George cheeked.

"There's no way either of us are turning tail and leaving you. So don't, for a second, feel insecure about where you stand with us again. Please Hermione."

"I'm your girl, and you're both _mine_ ," She said, leaning back against George again, this time without any stiffness or uncertainty. Lifting her legs and settling her feet in Fred's lap, she let them both adjust before letting out a contented sigh. "However that feels for us, however we deem it to be, yeah?"

"You'll see Hermione," whispered Fred as he began massaging the sole of her foot, her head resting against George's shoulder and her eyes drifting closed at the contented bliss she felt in the moment. "We will never give you cause to question how we feel about you."

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

She opened her eyes with a start, her brain shouting off confused queries as she struggled to get her bearings.

' _Where am I, what time was it?'_ Blinking around groggily, she sagged back against the warm body behind her as she realized she was still in the shack, back pressed against George, feet still in Fred's lap.

"Welcome back to the land of the sentient," Fred joked as she yawned and stretched.

"Careful Granger," came George's muffled voice as her elbow almost connected with his jaw in her attempt to work out the kinks to her muscles. "I'm quite partial to this face. It's unique, none like it in all of the UK."

She snorted at that and let out a giggle. Pulling herself away from George's very comfortable chest, she sat up and looked around.

"What time is it?" She asked, noticing that George had definitely put a dent in the book he was reading.

"Just shy of an hour after you arrived." Said Fred, "We put a stasis charm over the food and tea so that it'd still be warm or fresh when you awoke."

"You must be right knackered, Hermione, to fall asleep so thoroughly." Commented George, squinting at her in slight concern.

She yawned again. "Not more than my usual. I'm sorry to waste your time by sleeping... I'm sure that's not what you wanted to do on our second date."

Fred speared her with a look, "We wanted to see, to hold, to spend time with you, Hermione." He shrugged, then deadpanned, "Your drool and snores may have joined us for a bit, that's not a _problem_ for us…" He broke off at her indignant huff.

"I do _not_ snore…" She countered fiercely, "Nor drool!"

Saying this, she turned to the side, just out of their visual range and wiped around her mouth quickly to ensure there was no damning evidence. Their chuckles ensured she was unsuccessful at hiding her action from them. As Fred poured them tea, she nicked a biscuit and made her way toward the door. Bending down, she swept up her sack she'd all but thrown off her shoulders on her flight into George's arms. Swinging it over her shoulder, she made her way back to where the two wizards sat; taking the tea from Fred and a piece of melon from George and perched herself between them on the sofa. The twins were looking at her with idle curiosity.

"Since our last date, well, before then even; I've been thinking of ways we can communicate without having to _always_ rely on owls. And I'm honestly surprised I didn't think of this sooner…" Reaching into her bag, she pulled out two small wrapped packages, no bigger than her palm each. Handing one to Fred, she turned and gave the other to George, who immediately began tearing into his.

"What a considerate git," mumbled Fred, rushing to catch up so he wasn't left holding a half wrapped parcel while George would unveil the prize.

"Done!" said George, holding up…

"A Galleon, Hermione?" He asked puzzled. "You know you don't have to buy our affections, right? We'll be glad to give them to you for free."

She speared him with a look before turning to Fred, who was staring at the Galleon with a satisfied look upon his face, his head nodding slightingly.

"Brilliant you are, Hermione," Fred said, then looked at his twin with mock disgust. "Don't you recognize these? They're similar to the ones she gave us for the DA… Though I'm assuming _these_ are charmed a bit different?" He asked, throwing his arm back around her shoulders.

She snuggled in against the warmth of Fred's chest and turned her body to face George.

"Quite right, Fred." She said, tilting her shoulder slightly into him in acknowledgement. "I've spelled them so we can all communicate short messages; date and time, yes/no. That type of thing. Or quick messages such as 'Hogsmeade, Thurs, 7am?' and 'How's your day?'… The messages will appear in runes to everyone but the three of us; appearing as a standard serial code to others eyes."

"You've encrypted it," murmured Fred.

"Thank Merlin you're on our side Hermione…" George stated, and Hermione flushed with pride that she'd impressed them. She knew her own intelligence and abilities, but it was nice to hear them outwardly praised without it being because she helped them pass a class.

"I've also charmed them to turn colors depending on the other's mood."

"Like one of those muggle rings?" Asked George curiously, and Hermione felt a jolt of happiness they knew about mood rings.

"Inspired by, though not based on body heat like they are but on your _actual_ emotional output. The spell's magic will read it and interpret it accordingly."

"What moods have you spelled the coins to interpret?" Fred asked, and Hermione smirked…

"Just the six basics. Happiness, sorrow, embarrassment, anger, fear and… I'll let you figure out the other." She winked, then put her finger against George's lips as he opened them to say something. She'd never explain their gift at this rate. She gave a yelp as he licked then nipped her finger and she retreated back to Fred's embrace.

"It might be annoying at times, feeling little flickers, but you learn to ignore it… It, it has the potential to come in handy… if any of us are in danger. The fear and… one other emotion, are worked into the spell to be augmented for each of us…" As their eyes narrowed at this, she pushed on.

"You _know_ who my best friend is; you know, chosen one and all that! That means I _will_ be right in there beside him, wherever that takes us in this war. And it would help, if there comes a time we need to separate for a bit, that you can keep tabs on me and I you…."

As she felt Fred begin to speak, a rumble in his chest his give away, she rushed on. "So the _last_ enchantment is a locater charm. I actually got the idea from your mom's clock, but instead of _telling_ you my action, the middle design of whomever you wish to located will change to show you. You'll need to say an incantation to activate the enchantment of course. But it's a failsafe in case… in case we ever need to use it..."

She looked up and noticed George staring at her, multiple emotions broadcasting themselves her way. She smiled softly, knowing that discussion pertaining to the war were always going to be maudlin but they were also a reality they couldn't bury their head about.

"I have spelled your coins have the other on one side, and me on the other. On mine, you each have a side."

"Which of us got 'heads' on yours Hermione," cheeked Fred, and she felt herself blushing.

"That's for me to know…" She teased, "But you'll notice, your coin's head is heating up and turning red…"

George burst out laughing, and she could feel the rumble of Fred's chest indicating he also thought her funny.

"Just something to keep me… on your minds. For when we're apart," She said, and Fred pulled her tight against him, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

"Honestly Hermione, we reckon there's nothing that could drive you from our minds…"

"More like out of it…" said George, "And knowing that you're _ours_ now… well, these will help give us something tangible to hold on to when we're apart."

"Thank you, love, these are wonderful." Said Fred, and brushed a kiss against her temple.

"I repeat, it's a damn bloody good thing you're on our side Hermione…" George restated, reaching for her hand and placing it on his knee, his hand covering hers.

"And you're right," said Fred, turning the coin over in his fingers, sliding them between and back out again. Her eyes were fixated on his movements, her mind drifting to thoughts of his fingers playing her the same way as the coin. "These are definitely more _discreet_. Especially since we assume you haven't told anyone except Gin, and we've only told Bill…"

"I haven't told anyone apart from Ginny your _identity_ ," she said, and their ears seemed to perk up at this revelation. "But I did slip when talking to Lavender about my relationship with Ron, about currently being 'off the market'… and so I figured I needed to clear the air with him as well before she spread that all over the school and he got hurt he didn't hear it from me."

She saw Fred and George exchange long looks over her head, their ocular conversation making her nervous.

"Hermione," said Fred.

"We have to ask, in all fairness and family honour – especially in light of what's already transpired between _us_ — was there something between you and Ron?" George said earnestly.

Fred and he looked at her pointedly, not beating around the bush, which she appreciated and respected. She sighed apprehensively, understanding _why_ they would question her relationship with their brother — most likely due to the reason's Lavender had — and, though Ron'd come to terms with her romantic disinterest in him, she hoped once the identity of exactly _whom_ she was dating reached his ears; it wouldn't lead to _another_ family rift.

"There is no _Ron and I_ , outside of an _extremely_ close friendship – at least not on my end, and I believe not from his either after our chat." At George's raised eyebrow she clarified, "You weren't around the burrow this summer, being at your new place and all… But I _had_ noticed… altered behaviour… on his part over this summer. Since after losing Sirius really, and my almost dying at the Ministry; if I was to reflect back honestly." She paused a beat before continuing.

"I didn't want another Percy situation where yet another brother stops talking to family members over a perceived slight…"

"Nice use of Percy and a word containing 'Perce' in the same sentence,'" Chuckled Fred, and she elbowed him for interrupting.

"I _wasn_ _'t_ finished…" George chuckled as Fred grimaced, and she threw him an exasperated look. "I felt it best to nip Ron's budding interest at the root — _before_ I told him _whom_ I was dating... Let his interest drift elsewhere. I told him I was 'off the market', and that, even if I _hadn_ _'t_ been, I carried no romantic inclinations toward him. At first he seemed a bit down and went into his self-deprecation mode, but we're square now… We talked for a while, then had rounds where we talked about the topics we typically do on rounds, our earlier chat over and done with."

She looked at them seriously, her head swivelling up to look at Fred and then back at George as she said, "Fred, George. Ron is one of my dearest friends as is Harry. I love them both, and it would _tear_ me apart to ever feel like I have to choose between you and Ron… That's why I headed this off now, instead of pretending his feelings didn't exist. Or worse, mocking them by blatantly flaunting _this_ in front of him before having that needed conversation. And I hope you can respect the level of friendship we _do_ have… it's been forged through years of facing death together…"

They both nodded.

"It _may_ have escaped your notice Hermione, but we _did_ go to school with you lot." Said Fred, and gave her a squeeze.

"We saw how close you, Harry and Ron are, Hermione; both at school and at the Burrow… We understand your friendship, respect your friendship, and on top of that, _trust_ you implicitly…" reassured George.

Her heart warmed at their words. "I may have hinted during that conversation, and have been _trying_ – with some success I must add – to point him toward my roommate, Lavender Brown. I had a _lovely_ chat with her right after dinner, the night of our first date, where I laid out the same points I later said to Ron. She seems absolutely smitten with him, and I think her praise, focused attention and worship will do wonders for his confidence and sense of self-worth."

George got off the sofa and stretched, raising his arms above his head and drawing his shirt up; a flash of skin visible between his belt line and the edge of his jumper. Hermione's eyes zero'd in on that patch of skin as if a target had been drawn there, and began to imagine herself trailing her tongue along that line… dipping just below the —"

"Oy, Granger…! Gred, I think our witch has either gone _batty_ or we're getting _boring_ in our age… She keeps zoning out around us, I'm likely to take it personally!"

At George's words, her eyes flicked up to meet his and laughed at the devilish grin dancing on his lips. Feeling her own body's stiffness from the week settling in, she moved away from Fred's embrace; mirroring George by standing and stretching to relieve her tired muscles which were heavy from carrying books all day and her recent nap.

"Well, Hermione, I must say" Said George, sitting back down on his corner of the sofa. Hermione remained standing, stretching her arms behind her back, facing _her_ two wizards.

' _Merlin, but they do make such a stunningly gorgeous tableau'_ she thought contentedly… _'And all mine.'_

"That hearing you clarify the situation between you and our ickle Ronnikins has eased our concerns on that front about possible awkwardness when our relationship becomes public knowledge…"

"Make no mistake," said Fred, readjusting his position on the sofa, "It wouldn't have changed _anything_ between us… You've already _promised_ to be our girl… and we take that stuff seriously." He shot her a wink. "But…it _would_ have made things a _tad_ more awkward around the Burrow. It's relieving to hear that our brother's romantic inclinations toward _our witch_ won't be the case much longer. Let us know, yeah, if we can send anything to Lavender to help things along there…"

He trailed his fingers along his jaw, his gaze drifting off to the side and stroking in apparent contemplation of what they could do to assist Ron in his directed pursuit of the _other_ Gryffindor gal.

Hermione felt a shiver run up her spine as the phrase _'our witch'_ floated out from between Fred's lips again. She'd never get tired of hearing that, from either of them; and she became momentarily entranced by the back and forth strokes his fingers were making over the sharp line of his jaw. Finally, after what could have been days – but was more realistically seconds – she pulled herself back to the present and answered, a tad throatier than intended.

"No love potions, whatever you do! I want him to be happy, I do _still_ love him, regardless if only as a friend. I don't want him entering into anything that's not based in reality. And I won't hesitate to hex you on this…"

"It pains me, Ms. Granger," said Fred, his eyes returning to rest on her in widened horror; his hands flying up to grasp at his chest, "that you would even _think_ we'd drug our brother. Or let someone _else_ drug him…"

"Rest assured Hermione," George said placatingly, "whatever we would send, would be on the up and up. We _are_ reputable business men now, don't you know."

She chuckled, nodding her approval and acknowledgement at his words. She _did_ trust them, but she'd be a fool to not clarify her boundaries of what she felt appropriate 'assistance' material. They _did_ sometimes have a mean streak when it came to teasing their younger brother – especially Fred – at least, according to the stories Ron'd told her and Harry over the years.

"Send her whatever you like, Fred, but not those… _No_ exceptions," She said, her smile tempering the steel of her words.

Sitting back down between them, she reached back into her bag and withdrew the present they'd sent her days earlier.

"Now, can you please tell me… _why_ you thought a _rubix cube_ would be the _perfect_ gift for me?" she asked, and the twins burst out laughing before sobering to gaze at her with that look she'd yet to decode shining back at her.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **A/N: Thank you for all who reviewed last chapter. You warm my heart :) I hope you enjoyed their second date and her gift for them...**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I'm sorry for the delay in this chapter. Real life became a bit hectic and unfortunately writing took a backseat for a week and then FF site went all wonky for while. But it's fixed now so I can upload... Thank you to all who reviewed, followed and favorited. You are all dancing moonbeams and make me so happy.**

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **Chapter 10**

The stare the two gave her began to unnerve her as they didn't say anything; just kept staring as if she was an interesting specimen in a bell jar.

Finally, as she was losing the tether on her patience, Fred said, "I take it you haven't solved it yet then?"

"No… I've started fiddling, but to be honest, I've never been good at those." Her face burned at admitting to this insecurity, admitting that she wasn't good at something.

George waved away her admission as if it was an irksome fly.

"Take as long as you need Hermione, but what's inside… well, the faster you solve it, the sooner you'll know…"

"George!" Fred cut him off sharply then turned a smile toward Hermione. "Don't want to spoil the surprise, love."

Hermione looked at them shrewdly, then pouted. "If you're trying to drive me mental, you're on the right path… Give me a gift that doesn't play to my strengths, and then dangle the carrot of knowing that the quicker I solve it, the quicker I'll find out something… You know I hate not _knowing_ things!" Her voice broke off in an whine, and Fred and George exchanged smirks of their own at her tone and demeanor.

"Trust us Hermione, it'll be worth the frustration." Said George, and winked.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

As the evening progressed, Fred and George began picking her brain about magical theories surrounding two new products they wanted to bring to market, making good on their claim that they appreciated her mind as well as her body. They were having issues with the combination of charms they believed were needed to achieve the desired outcome; and appeared greatly appreciative of Hermione's input.

"What about if you layered the 'engorgement charm' on _after_ combining the two —" she began, but George cut her off.

"Already tried… tried all variations of order, with worsening effects. I don't know what we're missing."

"The theory is solid, but it's like there's an element or something —" Fred was saying but cut himself short as Hermione stood up and rushed toward the bookshelf.

"Element… element… I wonder, but no. It couldn't… maybe?" She muttered to herself as she grabbed a book off the shelf, riffled through it before replacing it and repeating the process. With her back turned missed the look of incredulity and intrigue that flit across Fred and George's faces as they watched her.

Suddenly, she gave a yelp of triumph and spun around; noticing that her yell had caused both twins to sit up with heightened interest.

"Alright there Hermione?" Fred chuckled as a look of delighted vindication spread across her face.

"Never better," she replied and brought the book she held preciously against her chest back to the sofa. Settling back in-between the two wizards who angled themselves close to her, she opened the book to the page her finger had marked.

"I don't know why I didn't think of this immediately." She began. "I remember professor Snape saying once how potions can be used in conjunction with charm work to strengthen and stabilize the merger of elements. Especially when using multiple charms of varying strengths and abilities."

Hermione stopped talking and gave them each a look, to see if they were following her words; something she was in the habit of doing when entering into lecture mode with Harry and Ron. To her pleasant surprise, not only were they completely attentive to what she was saying, they were nodding in comprehension. Seeing their absolute focus on her and her words had her warming to the subject even more.

"Since you're mixing an 'Engorgio' with the refilling charm along with an 'Aceto ad Vinum;' to stabilize the base properties, the vessel you're using must _first_ be soaked for a minimum of six hours in a tincture of rose-hips, essence of comfrey, night shade and peppermint."

Fred sucked in a breath at this and George barked out a laugh. "Of course…" he murmured.

Hermione continued, "This tincture creates a 'potion of negation,' which, when applied before layering the charms will counteract the unstable properties and instead bind the charms together when applied. If the order and timing isn't followed to the letter, however; I'm unsure how positive the results will be…" She paused, trailing her finger down the page to rest on a paragraph. "Here! This passage right here is the full instructions. There is a chance this won't work, but I strongly believe this will alleviate your headaches over the goblets continually exploding."

Passing over the book, Hermione sat there in a blanket of self-congratulations and pride. It felt good to use her knowledge outside school assignments, and she was excited to see Fred and George put her theory into practice.

"This is _brilliant_. Thank you, our little wonder witch," Said Fred and pulled her in for a not-so-quick or gentle kiss. After they broke apart, Hermione sighed and licked her lips.

"I'm glad to help," At Fred's raised eyebrow she sputtered, "Honest! It feels amazing to use my knowledge outside the school walls, and for such an _appreciative_ audience." She smirked, and George slipped his arm around her shoulder.

"You do realize, Hermione," he said in a tone of mock seriousness, "That you have now added another rule onto the list of those you've violated while being _our_ girl. You are now complicit in the creation and eventual distribution of a contraband product… A continually refilling and subtly enlarging wineglass that will forever change the dull vapid landscape of dinner parties. Very _very_ naughty…" He waggled his eyebrows at her while his hand traced lazy circles on her forearm, and she broke into giggles, rolling her eyes at the accuracy of his statement.

"So the swot has a sense of deviance about her," she chuckled, "I'm not above _bending_ rules to suit the situation or the person I wish to assist… It's getting _caught_ or getting someone _hurt_ that sparks my consideration as to the risk vs reward." She coughed and looked at them from under her eyelashes. "One of these days, if you ask me very _nicely_ … I'll tell you about my second year and the rule I bent so far I broke it in the most spectacular fashion; but let's just say that for all his vileness, Professor Snape isn't as horrid as he tries to appear in public…"

Fred groaned, "You can't just toss that nugget out and expect us to ignore it."

"Yeah," piped in George, "That'd be like telling us that you caught Filch snogging 'someone' or something along those lines, and then not telling us more than that… Cruel you are."

"In time," was all she said.

George dropped a kiss to her forehead, and they spent the rest of their time discussing the goings-on at Hogwarts, the budding war and Fred and George's involvement in the Order.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

The next couple of days flew by in a whirlwind of classes, homework where she nagged Ron and Harry to do theirs as well, fireside chats with Ginny and the flurry of 'notes' between her, Fred and George via the coins. They were turning out to be an inspired if not _distracting_ idea. Especially the mood indicator.

She had the _pleasure_ of waking up on Saturday morning to Fred's side of the coin being a bright magenta; she immediately burst into hysterical giggles at the sight.

"What in Merlin's name are you _giggling_ about?" grumbled Lavender from her bed, rolling over and showing Hermione her back. "Put up a charm, or go downstairs… It's too _early_."

Pavarti tossed a pillow at Hermione's head, its connection briefly muffling her giggles until she shook off the feather-filled sack from her face and tossed it back at her put-out roomate. Motioning with her hand to indicate the wall clock and the ridiculously early hour; Pavarti flopped back on her bed and put her pillow over her head.

Getting her giggles under control, Hermione quickly reached for her wand and cast a silencing charm around her bed. She sent a quick 'Magenta looks good on you Fred,' note and wondered how long it would take for him to realize her reference or if George would figure it out first when both hers _and_ his brother's were the same color...

' _Well,'_ she thought, _'might as well give them_ both _a delightful morning contemplation_ _… I wonder if they've figured out all six colors yet?'_ She knew they'd been playing with the coins the night before, as she'd seen the colors denoting anger, fear, sorrow and embarrassment flash across her coin along with a message assuring her everything was ok.

'Just practicing,' George had written. 'Two left to figure out.'

' _Well, Fred's figured out color number five,"_ she mused contentedly, _"Now let me return the… sentiment."_

And with that, she let her hands and sub-conscious wander; thankful that her silencing charms really were spectacular. Later, as she was walking with a very relaxed air down to breakfast with Ron and Harry, she felt her pocket warm.

Surreptitiously pulling it out, she glanced down and read the words written along the vibrantly yellow edge. Her message had apparently made Fred embarrassed and George – whose side was blue – incredibly happy.

'Game. Set. Match, love.' Fred's message read.

Not even a moment later, she felt the other side warm, and turned it over to read George's message.

'Encore in person Granger?'

Her heart gave a little flutter as she hurried to catch up with the boys, her mind turning over George's thrilling request...

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

The first trip to Hogsmeade was disappointing to say the least. It was cold. Wet. Dreary. Miserable and all around her worst trip in memory.

Hermione could tell Harry was disappointed about Ginny going with Dean and not them, and, after being left out by Professor Slughorn in the shop; she also noticed Ron checking around to see where Lavender was. She was pleased to observe that his attentions toward her roommate were becoming more frequently focused and she was beginning to feel optimistic that something would develop between them.

Though she hoped he wasn't leaning toward her as a crutch for his self-esteem issues, as — now that she thought about it — she realized he tended to seek out Lavender's attention when his ego needed a stroking and not just because he fancied her company.

She wanted both her friends to be as happy as she was currently; and knowing Ron's hot buttons and insecurities believed Lavender could be that person for him, if he treated her respectfully and not as a security blanket.

After giving up on Hogsmeade after their disastrous visit to the Three Broomstick; a moody Hermione, Ron and Harry walked down the trail toward the school, wind and sleet whipping their faces. As they walked along the path, she could just make out two figures arguing up ahead.

"It's nothing to do with you, Leanne," Katie Bell's voice carried on the breeze and Hermione realized the other figure next to Katie was George and Fred's other friend Leanne. She saw Leanne move to grab whatever was in her friend's hand, but Katie turned and the movement caused… a package… to fall to the ground.

Suddenly, as though an invisible string had turned her into a marionette, Katie was lifted up; high above the ground. Her screams pierced the chilled air, stabbing Hermione's eardrums with each pelted shriek. Running with Harry and Ron, she reached the two witches and attempted to pull Katie down from the air by her legs. Eventually, Katie collapsed on top of them; Ron and Harry barely able to support her as they lowered her gently to the ground. Her screams did not abate, and her floundering movements reminded Hermione of a landlocked trout; it's body flopping back and forth in desperation and pain.

Hermione was terrified, having never witnessed anything to rival the sight in front of her. She also felt horribly for the girl standing beside her now, whose face was streaked with tears and despair; whose voice she heard repeating 'Katie, Katie' in a choked whisper.

She knew of Leanne because she'd been George's other date to the Yule ball, along with Katie. But she'd never met her, and, come to think of it; had only exchanged minimal words with the Gryffindor quidditch player throughout the years as well. With the exception of the Weasley family and Luna, she hadn't really engaged with any of the upper or lower classes with the exception of the DA, but even that was different somehow. She hoped she could rectify that in the future, as — seeing that she was dating two _very_ popular blokes — she desired to be on at least _friendly_ terms with their mates.

As Harry ran back to the castle to get help, Ron watched over Katie's agonized form and Hermione turned toward Leanne. She whispered soothing words to the girl before angling back toward Katie and trying any of the diagnostic and healing spells she knew, limited though they were. Nothing worked and she felt helpless watching a girl who she knew from Fred to be fearless, thrash around in agony she couldn't stop or relieve.

As Harry approached with Hagrid, she felt immediate relief that Katie would be in the safe hands of Madam Pomfrey soon. Hermione could feel the heat from the coin in her pocket, and knew her emotions were being transmitted to the twins, likely causing a panic — her fear, sorrow, anger… Nothing she could do about it now; she'd answer them later when she had answers. They'd want to know everything about what happened here. She knew she'd be the same way if it was Harry or Ron who lay screaming in the snow.

"It's Leanne right?" She asked tentatively, putting her arm around the girl, who nodded. Though they'd never met, she felt a kinship with her; at the very least because she was friends with Fred and George. At most, because she seemed like a loyal and caring friend to Katie, and Hermione greatly valued loyalty.

As Harry went into, what she personally thought of as his 'Auror Mode,' she kept her arm around Leanne and offered comfort how she could. Making their way to the castle quickly, they met Professor McGonagall at the doors, who ushered them past Filch and his secrecy sensor. The head of Gryffindor house led them to her office, and proceeded to interrogate them as to the afternoon's events. After Leanne became too distraught to give much testimony past perfunctory responses, Professor McGonagall sent her to the hospital wing to be with Katie. Hermione made a mental note to visit later that evening, once she'd met with Fred and George. She was anxious to nip down to the shack as soon as possible, damned the possible consequences.

After Harry had made another ridiculous accusation about Malfoy that left her and Ron studiously avoiding the topic, they left an irate Professor and hurried along to their common room. She tried not to show how anxious she was to leave and so she purposefully made herself sit on the sofa for a solid fifteen minutes watching the boys play before announcing she had dithered enough of the day away and was going to the library to study. Ron and Harry barely glanced up from their game of wizard's chess but she caught Ginny's questioning eye as she turned toward the portrait hole.

She flashed a strained smile at Ginny, her face devoid of its usual sparkle when heading out to 'study.' Ginny's face instantly became one of concern, but Hermione gave a quick shake of her head, waved her off and made a swift exit; quickly disillusioning herself before all but running in the direction of the main doors and the Whomping Willow beyond.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

"Hermione?"

"Are you alright?"

"What happened?"

"Who do we have to hex?"

Their voices touched her before they did, each running their hands along her and looking her over for… something. She didn't want to examine that thought too closely; nor the panic and fear in their eyes as they raked themselves over her.

"I'm fine. I'm unharmed. Thanks for coming so fast, sorry if I interrupted —"

She was cut off by Fred, cupping her face with his long callused fingers and saying seriously. "Never _ever_ be sorry for needing us, Hermione. We mean it, it's getting nasty out there." He said, staring into her eyes with a heat that for once was devoid of any carnal invitations but rather, his one of fierce strength and devotion.

"And if you need us, we'll be there, simple as that." Stated George, turning her toward his chest and embracing her tightly. He dropped a kiss to her temple and she felt… calm. Safe. Protected. "Your emotions were all over the map, they were giving us palpitations."

He lifted her up and into his arms, carrying her toward the sofa that'd been left from their last visit; settling her in his lap facing Fred who'd dropped down on the other end.

"We knew it was a Hogsmeade visit," said Fred, reaching for her hand and entwining his fingers in hers. She appreciated how both seemed to need to be touching her, to feel her and physically know she was unharmed. "But we couldn't understand what could get you so terrified, apart from death eaters and we knew there weren't any or Tonks would have let the Order know."

"It's Katie Bell." Hermione said, looking from one face to the other; their faces draining of color at her words.

"She's _alive_ ," she rushed to qualify, "But she was severely cursed. She's not conscious, and might be moved to St. Mungos, if Madame Pomfrey can't reverse it. We don't know who gave her the spelled object that afflicted her — Harry believes Malfoy — but —"

"Malfoy did this? Bloody ferrety git!" Said Fred incredulously, leaping up and pacing. "We should go up there Georgie, we should be with Katie, be with Leanne…" As Fred paced and muttered, George had gone eerily still behind and under her, and even his breath seemed to have gotten quieter.

Hermione rushed to placate Fred. "No, I don't believe so… He wasn't, he wasn't at Hogsmeade even. Malfoy was in detention, and Leanne said Katie'd gotten the package in the women's loo. I seriously doubt Malfoy had _anything_ to do with her being cursed." She bit her lip, and added, "Though if it turns out he _is_ responsible, then I will personally join you in hexing him until his intestines come out his ears and wrap themselves like shoelaces round his neck."

Fred stared at her as she finished her threat to Malfoy's health, quickly flashing her a grin of approval at her inclinations of revenge before his face fell grave again.

"And you can't just march up to the infirmary… you aren't students, you wouldn't be allowed in; Order members or not. She'll probably be moved to St. Mungos tomorrow given the severity of everything, so you'll be able to visit there." She said with firm gentleness.

"How's Leanne doing?" George asked with an almost quiet menace from behind her.

"She's a wreck," Hermione said honestly. "She and Katie seem really close. She reacted with the same level of terror I probably would have if I saw Harry or Ron in the state Katie'd been."

George gave a dark chuckle. "I hope you aren't as close to Harry and Ron as Katie and Leanne are with each other… seeing as they are, shall we say, off the market. That's why I took them both to the Yule ball… Stirred the pot having two witches on my arm, but they both thought it was a laugh."

"Though, as of yet, no one outside our inner circle — namely the Gryffindor Quidditch team and friends of our years — are aware of _why_ they're taken or by who?" said Fred matter-of-fact, and Hermione's eyes widened in understanding as she realized what Fred and George were intimating.

"Good for them, going after who they want! And you, George, for coming up with a way they could enjoy the ball _together_ without drawing even more attention from the stodgy establishment. You're both good friends." She said before promising. "No one will hear about this from me – it's not my news or my place. But thank you, for trusting me…" She felt George's arms slide around her from behind, pulling her close against his chest and looked up to see Fred's strained face beaming at her.

"I know Leanne and Katie will appreciate your support, and… discretion. Its bullocks they feel they have to downplay their relationship, especially in times like now; but they don't want to make themselves even more of a target to these purist arseholes," Said Fred.

"Fat lot of good that way of thinking did," muttered George darkly, and Hermione leaned into him, offering comfort. "Katie was targeted just for being a pawn on our side."

"What do you mean, more of a —" she began.

"With Leanne being muggleborn and Katie being a halfblood; neither are in good standing with those who aim to maim or kill," continued George, "And it's starting to get sticky for those of us obviously fighting on Dumbledore's side. They told us before we left school; they're in. After graduating, they want in on the Order."

"It's not that they _hide_ their relationship, per say, they just don't flaunt it. Both years — ours and theirs — of Gryffindors knew, obviously," said Fred.

" _Obviously_ ," said George.

"But the upper establishment, our esteemed Professors, and the majority of the school were too pedantic and stilted to believe two witches could be _anything_ but close friends… Despite the fact I know they're not the only couple who have these sexual or romantic inclinations." Fred shook his head in disgust at other's bigoted actions.

"Bloody purists," Hermione spat, "And I don't, for one second, think only those fighting against Dumbledore are to blame for this invisible oppression… How many on _'our'_ side, do you think, will turn their nose up at _our_ arrangement? Bloody hypocrites — like their lives are so pious — thinking they can judge others who love a bit different than their own boxed beliefs? It won't just be Death Eaters looking down at us. Judging us. It's crap that Leanne and Katie can't just love who they love without vicious wankers nosing in." She'd set her jaw at the injustice she saw in the world around them, how one could claim the moral high ground on one issue, only to lose it on another. "They can be themselves around me, and I know Ron and Harry won't give a toss either. Nor will any of the Gryffindors in my year. And if they did, well, they might find themselves copying Marietta's hairstyle.

As she finished her impassioned speech; George's hands had wandered under her school sweater and shirt and his fingers were currently drawing patterns on the bare skin of her stomach. It was doing maddening things to her sense of indignation, creating a fire inside her that had nothing to do with anger or her previous fear.

Fred blinked, then chuckled, swooping down to capture her lips in a kiss before pulling back to admire her.

"Bloody brilliant you are."

"By the by, how did you know there are others?"

"Map." Said Fred simply, and they shared a laugh.

Turning her face to press a brief kiss to his cheek, she extricated herself from George's embrace and made her way to the bookshelf; hearing Fred throw himself down on the sofa cushions again and the crackle of parchment being unrolled.

"There must be something on curses here…" she muttered, scanning the tomes and pulling out a few to read back at the castle. Pulling out her wand, she sent the books to stack neatly on the table in the center of the room.

She felt hands encircle her waist as she stood there, the pressure of long nimble fingers ghosting her skin before she was quickly turned and her back pressed against the old leather of books and the wood of the shelves.

"Thank you," George whispered between the light kisses he was dropping on her lips. "I mean it Hermione, _thank_ _you_ for delivering this news in person, rather than through owl or coin."

At this she looked up at him with a look of caustic disbelief. "As _if_ I would send news like this in an owl… how insensitive do you think I am? I'm not _Percy_!" She said. "I mean, _honestly_ , I couldn't wait to get here and tell you. I know how important the people you care about are. Especially when you can't see them often and you worry about them." She broke of and then said quietly but firmly, "Your friends are important to me too, because they are important to you."

George lowered his head and plundered her lips at her statement, his tongue spearing her, making her quiver. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held tight as he took comfort from her; soothing his fear and anger about Katie by giving him solace in herself. The snog was slightly different than any George had bestowed before — the emotional influence altered — but it still set her body on fire with its heat.

Afterwards, he gave her nose a flick with the pad of his fingertip before stepping back and moving toward where Fred was sitting, writing on a piece of parchment. Handing the quill to George who sank down next to him and began writing below Fred's lines, Fred got up and held out his hand to Hermione.

She walked over and grasped it tightly, and they shared a silent exchange of understanding. The war was now at their doorstep. They had to be ready.

George finished writing and flicked his wand over the parchment, sealing it, before standing up ad handing it to Hermione.

"Can you deliver this to Leanne?" George asked.

"Of course!" Hermione replied, and slipped the parchment in her sack along with the books she'd removed from the shelf. Time was dwindling and she needed to get back to the castle. Saying goodbye — verbally and deliciously non-verbally — to the twins, Hermione disillusioned herself yet again and made her way out of the shack and toward the infirmary wing.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

Hermione silently pushed open the infirmary door, her cheeks rosy from the brisk walk back from the shack. She quietly made her down to the lone figure perched on the side of a hospital bed, the sound of sobs reaching her ears.

"Leanne," Hermione said gently, and the witch gave a start, dropping the hand of the comatose girl in the bed. Wiping her face with her hands, she turned and gazed blearily toward her.

"Y-yes," she chocked out, sniffling but alert.

"I don't know if you know me, but I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger."

Leanne nodded at her introduction, "I know who you are; I was in the DA…"

"oh...Right…" Hermione said, and felt a bit foolish at having blundered this already. "Erm, well, Fred and George asked me to give you this." She pulled the scroll of parchment from her sack and handed it to Leanne, who took it with wide eyes.

"How did they… When did they… Are they here?" She looked around as if expecting the two to pop round the corner shouting 'surprise.'

"No, they aren't. But I… I told them what happened to Katie, they were very distraught and if Katie gets moved to St. Mungos, they'll be first in line to visit her after her family."

At this, Leanne gave Hermione a shrewd look through her watery eyes, before a smirk tilted one corner of her lips. "They finally worked up the courage. Good for them…" She said, a twinkle appearing in her eyes, "And I'm taking you said yes… if you're in contact enough to let them know _their_ friend was cursed."

Hermione's eyes grew wide as she realized Leanne knew exactly _what_ her relationship status with Fred and George was. As she opened her mouth to speak, Leanne waved her off with her hand.

"Don't fret, I'm a master of keeping secrets. Besides, I'd do anything for those boys, and it's not _my_ place to spread gossip…" At this, she gazed down at the girl in the bed with a look of loving desperation.

"Likewise," Hermione said, and when Leanne's gaze shot up to meet her own, Hermione motioned toward Katie with her chin. "I'm _also_ not one to gossip… or expose others secrets." Moving closer to Leanne, she put her hand on her arm. "I'm so sorry… I wish there was something I could do for Katie. But if you ever need to talk, I know we don't really know each other, but feel free to seek me out."

"Thank you," Leanne said, reaching over and giving Hermione's hand on her arm a squeeze before turning her gaze once more upon Katie's inert form. After a quiet moment, she frowned slightly and turned her head to look upon Hermione.

"I just… I want to say. Fred and George may _appear_ tough and like the world's shite doesn't faze them… But, they've liked you, Hermione, for a _very_ long while. I hope you respect them enough not to toy with them… As _their_ friends may not take too kindly to that sort of behavior…" She stared at Hermione, a surprising strength of will behind her gaze despite being encased in bloodshot frames, and Hermione felt her respect for the witch in front of her grow.

"Duly noted, but I don't intend on toying with anyone. I find myself just as invested to be honest, and feel myself falling further and harder every day." A small smile tugged at her lips as she thought of her two wizards, and the starch went out of Leanne's posture.

"Right, well, glad we got that sorted," She said, shrugging without apologizing, and Hermione gave a small chuckle.

"I'll leave you two alone…" Hermione said, giving her a soft smile. Turning to go, she paused and said, "I'm glad I _properly_ met you Leanne, despite the horrible circumstance; and I'm truly sorry about Katie. Please, let me know if there's anything I can do…"

"Thank you Hermione," Leanne said, reaching over and taking Katie's hand gently in her own again as she had before Hermione had announced her presence. "Likewise."

And on that note, Hermione let herself out of the hospital wing and made her way up toward the Gryffindor common room.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed this... Things are getting a bit darker outside. I'm trying to keep all major themes from canon but weaving them into this story. I really like the character of Leanne, and always wanted to incorporate her into a story. Would love to hear your thoughts!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author Note: My deepest apologies for the ridiculously long time between chapter ten and eleven. Please check out my bio for why it's taken me so long. I appreciate more than words can express those who've PM'd me messages, favorited, followed, or reviewed this story while it was lounging in the dusty corners of my mind while I dealt with Life. Your support has blown me away. Thank you! Much love and hope you enjoy the chapter below.**

 **Legal : I am not J.K. Rowling, and therefore do not make any money from this story. I own nothing but the plot of this story.**

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **Chapter 11**

The following day saw Katie transferred to St. Mungos hospital after Madam Pomfrey gravely declared that Katie's injuries had surpassed even her own healing capabilities. When word from Leanne's lips met Hermione ears, she sent the twins a message through their coins as she'd promised. Immediately, she felt her coin burn in reply, and felt incredible satisfaction and comfort knowing they could communicate instantly in this time of burgeoning war.

" _Thank you our darling_." Read George's message.

" _On our way there now._ " Read Fred's.

Both sides alternated between green and purple, their respective fears and sorrows for Katie making her heart ache. She wished she could physically comfort them, but contented herself with being able to at least converse with them through their coins, instead of an impersonal and delayed owl delivery.

That evening, as Hermione, Ron and Harry made their way through their common room on their way to dinner, Hermione was dismayed but not shocked to notice a teary eyed Leanne seated upon the window ledge overlooking the grounds below. Her heart squeezed at the possibility that one day it might be her seated there — arms wrapped around her legs, tears riveting down her cheeks — with one or both of her wizards housed at St. Mungos.

Or worse.

"Reckon she'll be alright?" Ron murmured, nodding toward Leanne's silhouette as they walked through the corridor. Hermione was pleased that instead of taking the piss — as he was wont to do when faced with the outpouring of emotions — he was employing empathy.

"If Katie pulls through…" replied Hermione softly. Harry and Ron exchanged somber looks as they passed through the portrait of the Fat Lady and the subject was dropped.

Life continued at a steady pace following Katie's attack, with the leaves developing hues of cardamom, golds and tawny browns, and the air grew a crisp bite signaling the approaching winter winds. Hermione found her days fuller than ever before. Instead of how she typically spent the times Ron and Harry were otherwise preoccupied practicing quidditch or playing wizard's chess — namely, she'd spend it alone — Hermione could now be found those various evenings studying with Leanne in the library or relaxing in the common room with Ginny.

Despite Hermione's tendencies to inadvertently rub the females her age the wrong way with her somewhat abrasive nature and dismissive tendencies — save for Ginny — she was delighted to find that relating to Leanne was in fact quite effortless. She cherished the true friendship that was developing.

"Have you received any news about Katie?" Hermione asked one evening as the two sat reviewing their respective course work. Seeing as Leanne was a year ahead, Hermione delighted in picking Leanne's brain for advanced wand work and spells, and was grateful the other witch wasn't put out by her intellectual sponging. It saddened her to realize she'd surpassed learning for the sake of knowledge alone; that instead, she was building her magical arsenal in order to aid in the ultimate defeat of Voldemort and hopefully ensure those she loved survived.

She'd intellectually sponge off whomever she could — within reason — if it helped her prepare for what was to come.

Leanne sighed. "Fred owled me yesterday, apparently there's no change either way. Whatever the curse was, it damaged her magical core greatly. According to the senior mediwitch in charge of her care, the resulting magical coma is a positive thing. It's protecting her and allowing her core the chance to regenerate itself… I'm just so thankful Fred and George can send me news… I couldn't even imagine how terrible it'd be without knowing anything…to be just left wanting and waiting."

Her eyes glistened and her bottom lip trembled slightly as she spoke, but Leanne drew in a breath when she finished and shored up her defenses.

Hermione reached across and placed her hand atop Leanne's.

"I'm really glad you have them too. They care deeply for you both, and almost losing Katie has hit them harder than I believe even they realize. I'm glad you have each other to lean on and draw strength from."

Leanne smiled. "I think you, Hermione, are the one giving them strength. I've never seen them as… grounded… as they currently are, nor as happy despite the current cultural climate. They've always been decent blokes and right fantastic friends, but they've also been at loose ends for years."

Hermione ducked her head slightly, a blush of pleasure dusting her cheeks.

"I'm glad," she said softly. "I'm… I'm utterly besotted Leanne. As their friend, your affirmation of our relationship means a great deal to me, as I truly do adore them for their own uniqueness's."

Hermione paused, drawing back her hand and scratching her nail along a jagged etching in the wood someone had carved with a quill tip. "I'll admit though, it's starting to chafe that only Ginny, their brother Bill and you know that we're together…"

Leanne sent Hermione a commiserating look, "I know all too well how hiding who you're with can chafe."

Hermione flushed, embarrassed. She made to stutter out an apology at her lack of tact but Leanne waved her off.

"Welcome aboard the boat that sails the seas without public acknowledgment, lest delicate sensibilities are disturbed by our mere presence. Although, I'm not sure which is more scandalous at present, two females together or a triad… with twins no less. And prolific businessmen at that…" she gave a snort. "Either one would send an old bitty to an early grave."

Hermione nodded, though thought it likely her relationship with the twins would be apt to cause a greater stir, simply for the reason that they were indeed prolific businessmen and of her friendly proximity to Harry Potter and her own semi-notoriety thanks to Rita Skeeter.

Eventually the truth would come out, but Hermione hoped they'd have their friends at their backs and in their corner when it did.

It baffled her slightly that neither Ron nor Harry appeared the least bit cognizant to her budding camaraderie with Leanne, despite it developing almost right under their noses.

' _Silly, obtuse boys,_ ' Hermione muttered to herself, hauling her book sac onto her shoulder as she made her way back from their latest study session.

On the occasional nights her dorm mates joined her and Ginny in front of the Gryffindor common room's fire, Lavender and Pavarti took exceptional delight in peppering Hermione with questions about whom she was dating, with Hermione remaining tight lipped and Ginny smirking coyly; like the cat who ate the cream.

"Come on, Hermione, give us _something_!" Pestered Lavender the Thursday evening following their Hogsmede visit.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Fine… we met at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts!" Squealed Lavender, clapping her hands in delight at having finally pried loose a detail from Hermione's lid-tight relationship. "They must have graduated, or you'd be spending loads of time together and we'd have seen you." She nodded authoritatively and Ginny chocked on the water she was drinking, convulsing into a coughing fit while her eyes watered.

"You alright there Gin," asked Hermione, brow furrowed in silent warning. She gripped her wand in case Ginny needed a helping hand.

"F-fine…f-fine…" sputtered Ginny, hitting her chest and drawing in a large gulp of air. "Apologies. I'm alright. Wrong tube and all that." She said, shooting a grin at Hermione that went unnoticed by the other two.

"So they're magical?" Asked Pavarti.

"Of course," interjected Ginny, definitively. "Like Hermione could hide being a witch for the remainder of her days. Her magic is ingrained in everything she does, it'd be downright cruel…"

"I do live as a muggle during the majority of summer, Gin," Hermione gently reminded her.

"But you know it's temporary. That you'll be able to use magic soon enough. That you'll be back amongst those who know and understand you and your abilities, even the prats who pretend otherwise."

" _Slytherins_ ," coughed Lavender.

"True," Hermione nodded, realizing as she did that the divide between her worlds was a further chasm every year, and at some point the distance might be insurmountable. It saddened her. "I really haven't felt myself pulled toward any muggle boy since I entered this world. I think my subconscious is protecting me from following in Professor McGonagall's footsteps."

"What about Professor McGonagall?" Lavender and Pavarti said simultaneously, leaning forward, eyes alight with the potential receipt of juicy gossip.

"Oh, it's a terribly sad story! I overheard her and Mrs. Weasley last year…" Hermione relayed to the girls the bits that she knew, from a discussion she'd inadvertently eavesdropped on between her favorite professor and Mrs. Weasley over Christmas the previous year at Grimmauld Place.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

"What is Dumbledore playing at?" Asked Fred, pacing around the room.

"I'm not certain," sighed Hermione, seated upon the sofa with her legs tucked up beside her. "He seems to think informing Harry of these snippets of Riddle's past will somehow assist Harry in defeating him. Though I fail to see how, at this point… a reincarnated seventy-five year old wizard is not going to be the same as his twelve year old self. Or at least, I should hope not…"

She hadn't informed the twins of what Harry was being shown, just that Professor Dumbledore was giving him private lessons revolving around Tom Riddle's past. Technically speaking, she shouldn't have even told George and Fred this much. It went against Dumbledore's instructions that Harry only involve her and Ron in the knowledge of these clandestine meetings and their contents.

However, being both order members, modestly brilliant wizards and inventive pranksters who could evaluate a situation from angles otherwise left unexplored, she didn't regret in the least bringing them slightly into the fold.

She also knew they were very talented in the art of discretion and diversion, and would employ both with whatever she divulged.

"I bet Ol' Tweedlebore is regretting not informing Harry of everything last year with the prophecy and all that. His secrets ended up ultimately getting Sirius killed." Mused Fred, plopping down beside Hermione on the sofa and slinging an arm loosely around her shoulders.

Hermione snorted at the nickname he'd given their headmaster. George and Fred had confided in her their personal views on the Headmaster and his management of Harry, predominantly their witnessed treatment of Harry by his muggle relatives, as well as their observations on Professor Dumbledore's subtle machinations throughout the years. They were hesitant to put all their eggs of trust in the old man's basket, and had warned her to keep her council around him, for they suspected he was a proficient legillimens.

"Bet his guilt is what spurred on the sharing sessions." Nodded George. He was lounging in one of the chairs, and was fiddling with a wooden tube of some sort. Hermione couldn't tell what it was exactly, other than it was wood, it was cylindrical, and in some capacity, was destined for their store shelves as a new product.

Hermione pushed the hair out of her face that had fallen when Fred'd sat down beside her and closed the book she'd been perusing earlier before the twins had arrived. It had lain open upon her lap, all but forgotten, as she'd informed them of the previous evening's revelations.

She'd managed to find an actually legible tome in the bookshelf about the combined forces of herbology and alchemy in the late sixteenth century and how it was utilized to purify various flora and elevate the medicinal properties through spagyrics. Any potions derived from these purified ingredients would be exponentially more powerful and transformative.

It was fascinating reading, if a bit tedious, and she looked forward to delving further into its study. As captivating a subject though it was, however; it couldn't hold a candle to the wizards beside and in front of her.

Levitating the book back toward its vacant space in the bookshelf, Hermione snuggled into Fred's side.

"We know you're privy to the actual intricacies of the memories Hermione," said Fred, twisting a curl around his finger, the tip brushing against her shoulder slightly as he flicked the strands. She shivered.

"If it gets to be too great a burden — the knowledge revealed, the danger, anything really — _please_ , we beseech you confide in us, so that we can help share the strain." George said earnestly.

"You know Granger, we've been privy to observing the mechanisms of your dynamic — yours, Ron's and Harry's — for years, and know that for all that Ron and Harry shoulder their share, you, our darling —"

"Take the lion's worth." Finished George, for once his eyes intense with a somber steadiness.

"Ron is an incredibly logical tactician…" Hermione said loyally, for it was the truth. "And for all his rashness, Harry's heart and bravery are his biggest strengths. Each come with their own responsibilities and burdens."

"Your ability to retain knowledge, apply it skillfully under intense pressure while maintaining a clear and cool head, not being afraid to dip a toe past the line and into the black if warranted, never wavering in your assistance to a best mate with a target literally tattooed upon his forehead…" said Fred, ticking off each point on his fingers.

"We just…" George extricated himself from the chair and began pacing the same path Fred had moments before. "We just… we want to be your home base Hermione… your place where you can come, to regroup, to be safe, to let down your guard. We don't need to know everything — or anything, rather, other than that you need us — we just desire to know you'll allow us to help keep you from burning yourself out."

Hermione felt her eyes tear up as her throat constructed around a sudden lump at the base of her tongue. For so long she'd kept herself together with invisible threads of defiance, pride, desperation to succeed and fear. Fear of failure, fear of losing those she loved, fear of returning to the aching loneliness she'd experienced the beginning of her first year…. She knew Ron and Harry cared for her, and they all relied on each other to continually get through the surprises and rigors each school year tossed their way.

But to have blind, unconditional, unwavering support offered solely for her and her alone… to matter that much to them…

Hermione felt her chest tighten as a multitude of emotions flooded her system.

Harry had been born under the cloud of trepidation, fear and, from his first birthday onward, heady expectations unbeknownst to him. Since re-entering their world at age eleven, he had shouldered more than was humanly fair to demand of anyone — child or otherwise — let alone a boy who'd suffered as he had at the hands of his relatives.

Ron and Hermione were the pillars he drew strength from; their support and loyalty bolstering his endurance and focus. They weren't destined by a prophecy to stand with him, they did so out of love, knowing all of them had stakes in the war. That said, there was no one, save for themselves, to ensure they too remained strong, that they were also supported… that they could break apart and it'd be ok, there would be someone to catch them.

Before Fred and George, she'd had no one to catch her, not even a possibility of someone.

George and Fred were staring at Hermione, their gazes anxious.

"You…" Hermione whispered, her words catching on her suddenly thickened throat as she struggled to maintain her decorum. "You have no idea… what your words… your presence, support, strength… means."

She buried her face into Fred's chest and threaded her arms around his toned chest. Fred's arms enveloped her, pulling her close as he tucked his chin atop her head.

"We've waited years for the chance to court you, Hermione. To be yours…" he murmured, one of his hands stroking her spine soothingly. "We'll do whatever we can —"

"However we can," agreed George, sitting down beside them on the sofa and placing his hand on her knee, "to ensure we have years after this bloody war is won as your wizards as well. We meant it when we said we'd be your safe place to land… and know we don't scare easily love."

She turned from Fred's embrace and folded herself into George's.

"And I'm yours in turn. We are each other's…" she murmured, reaching up to cup George's face and kissing his lips lightly.

"I plan on enjoying these…" she said, tracing his bottom lip with her finger. "For a very long while yet…"

George gave her finger a nip, extracting a surprised squeal from Hermione that dissolved into tinkling laughter. Nestling back into the crook of Fred's arm, she crossed her leg over her knee and took George's hand within her own.

"I want to run something by you two." Said Hermione, "Ron's getting titchier about Slughorn's supper club, and his constant exclusion. I know it irks him no end to not be considered worthy enough for Slughorn's attention despite having done all the same stuff Harry and I have…for the most part, save for third year…"

She saw George lift his eyebrows toward Fred and felt Fred give a slight shrug behind her.

"Anyway…" she continued. "The professor will be hosting a Christmas party right before the holidays in December, and Harry, Ginny and I are all invited. I was thinking I'd invite Ron as my date for the party, so that he'd be included in an event he should by all rights be already invited to."

She pulled back from where she'd snuggled into Fred's side, and linked her other hand's fingers with his.

"Would you be opposed to me inviting him? I know I don't need your permission — he's one of my best friends and you're no longer students, so couldn't be my dates anyway — but I respect you, respect us… I just want to ensure full communication of intent. He knows where I stand, and I'll be clear this is a date in name only."

"Hermione. Our girl… breathe." Chuckled George.

Lifting her hand to his mouth and turning her palm face up, he slowly traced his tongue down each of her fingers, ending with a bite as he reached each tip. He punctuated each digit's caress with words of endearment.

Hermione could feel her knickers dampen, and she squeezed her thighs together in pleasure at the sensations George was eliciting.

"What George is too distracted to fully articulate," said Fred, rolling his eyes in apparent bemusement as her eyes became heavy with desire, "is that we appreciate your thoughtfulness in informing us of your intent, though you didn't have to tell us anything about your plans for the party, Hermione. We trust you implicitly. You've made it quite clear he's solely a mate and I agree, it's pants that Slughorn's biased against our brother for not being wealthy or prestigious enough… We heartily approve you taking ickle Ronniekins to the Christmas shindig…"

George finished his ministrations upon her hand and said, "Though we demand dibs on your time after the party." He flashed a roguish smile that had her stomach summersaulting in anticipation.

"You demand?" Hermione asked, breathless, raising an eyebrow

"We'd love the opportunity to… unwrap you, to divest you of your Christmas finery," said Fred, licking his lips before capturing hers in a passionately sweet kiss.

"Deal!" Hermione breathed, the word swallowed up by the heat of Fred's next kiss.

Over the next few hours, Hermione immersed herself in both physical and intellectual pleasures at the hands of her wizards, before the imminent hour of curfew made leaving them a necessity.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

"Have you noticed Lavender today? She looks… different, somehow..." Ron asked, scowling slightly with his brow furrowed in puzzlement as he pushed his cereal around in his bowl one Tuesday morning. He'd yet to put his spoon to mouth, and Hermione raised the back of her palm to his head to see if he felt warm. Apart from a slight clamminess, he felt normal temperature to her.

"Good different," he hastened to clarify, and Hermione rolled her eyes at his blundering observations.

The boys had quidditch practice that evening, and Hermione had made plans to meet George and Fred at the shack. It'd been three days since she'd seen them, since they'd yet again declared themselves her proverbial shields from the approaching storm.

"Hmff." Replied Harry, nose in the prince's book. His eyes had the glazed look of the scholastic, and Hermione grudgingly admitted that having Harry interested in and actually learning Potions, albeit from a book, wasn't the worst thing to happen. She'd promised both Ron, Ginny and her two wizard's she'd lay off Harry, so she bit her tongue at his preoccupation and answered Ron instead.

Hermione knew Lavender had utilized the new curling spell that witch weekly had featured in their latest issue, and the soft ringlets instead of her customary straightened locks did frame her friend's face enticingly.

 _'I wonder if she purposefully sat with her back to the windows, so that the morning sun would filter in and give her the appearance of wearing an ethereal halo?'_ Hermione mused.

"Why don't you go talk to her?" Hermione nudged his shoulder and angled her head in her dorm mate's direction. As she did, she caught Lavender glance in their direction, a bright flush flitting across her cheeks as she caught Ron and Hermione staring.

"She's busy." Said Ron, somewhat glumly, nodding toward where she sat eating and chatting with Pavarti. "Sides, not like I'm much to talk to these days. If Harry wasn't being so bloody loyal, he'd let me—"

"Oh for Merlin's _sake_ , Ron!" said Hermione, losing patience with his currently stropy mood. "Just buck up, stop the pity party and go chat with her… Are you a lion or not?"

"And you are not quitting the team!" Said Harry pointedly, momentarily joining the conversation before returning his gaze once more to his book.

"He resurfaces," huffed Hermione. She was trying, really, she was. But she was loathe to give him a completely free pass, and she was feeling especially tetchy that morning.

She crossed her arms atop the table and watched in exasperated amusement as Ron loped off toward where Pavarti and Lavender were sitting a ways down.

'Cor, but I miss my wizards'. She thought, watching Ron and Lavender interact, both of their faces a study in shy, budding, infatuation. 'I miss conversing with wizards who treat me as an equal, not their mother!'

She missed the breathlessness of their kisses, the tingle of desire and the sense of 'home' that traveled down her spine with every caress. She missed the challenges they brought, the fire they stoked in both her body and mind.

She just missed… them.

She was tetchy with want.

' _We mentioned courting_ ,' George had written the night before.

 _'And we've been amiss_ ,' Fred's side had gleaned.

 _'Tomorrow night we rectify_ ,' wrote George.

 _'A true date for our miss_ ,' Fred had finished.

The coins truly didn't lend themselvesas to the proper vessel for poetry, but their intent was clear.

They were taking her on a date.

Hermione was vibrating with excitement and anticipation.

 _'Only a few more hours_ …' she thought, trying desperately to hold on until then. She fingered the coin hanging on the silver chain around her neck — she had moved it there following the incident, as she didn't want to risk it ever falling out or being misplaced — and wished that six-o-clock would bloody well hurry up.


	12. Chapter 12

**Legal** **: I am not J.K. Rowling, and therefore do not make any money from this story. I own nothing but the plot of this story.**

 **A/N: 's been wonky lately and want to ensure these post properly and with notifications, so reposting the next three chapters. To all who are following along, favoriting, and reviewing, I adore you and am so glad you're enjoying the story! Thank you!**

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **Chapter 12**

"You're taking her out of the shack? On a real bonafide date?" Bill asked casually. He was leaning against his apartment's kitchen counter, staring at Fred with a mixture of pride and amusement while sipping steaming tea from a cup that had definitely seen better days.

"Why don't you magically repair that," said Fred, waving his hand at the mug that appeared to have been pieced together with muggle glue. Long cracks with messily applied epoxy decorated the perimeter of the cup, the lip missing pieces of the ceramic, jagged edges left un-mended.

Bill flinched slightly, before looking uncomfortably repentant. "Let's just say, this mug is a reminder. If I spell it anew, I don't have…"

Bill broke off, shaking his head as if to clear whatever maudlin thoughts Fred's question had evoked before smirking.

"Nice deflection, but don't forget. I'm your only current ally, one who's already come through for you once. Rather spectacularly, if I do say so myself. I'm also older and more worldly than you, and just might — if you're lucky — bestow upon you my vast expertise and wisdom."

He winked.

Fred rolled his eyes. "Right. I can definitely see the pyramids offering up loads of dating opportunities. All those decaying mummies, and dank dreary sarcophagus's… so romantic!" he cheeked, and Bill raised his eyebrow.

"You forget, little brother, that I'm engaged to a former Triwizard Champion. I must be doing something right to have been privileged with her hand and partnership."

He leaned in conspiratorially. "Lastly, I can make your path smooth or extra rocky to navigate when it comes to breaking the news of your relationship to mum." He leaned back and flashed a roughish grin. "Information for accommodation Freddie, currency of the day."

He flashed his teeth again and Fred laughed, nodding as he reclined in the chair he occupied at Bill's dining table. George was at the shop filling the list of orders currently overflowing their inbox. Fred had been tossed out after he proved a distraction while refining their latest invention, and had decided to stop by Bill's apartment in the hopes of netting himself a free lunch.

And advice, though he'd sooner kiss one of Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts before admitting to that out loud.

Popping a grape into his mouth from the bowl on the table, Fred crossed one long leg over the other, resting his right ankle upon his left knee.

"All excellent points, Bill," Fred said, nodding. "Yes, we are, in fact, leaving the sanctity of the shack. We plan to message her when it's all planned and set up, hopefully in a day or so. We want—"

Fred's voice cracked slightly, and he shook his head, looking down into his lap from below his eyelashes. He suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable, despite Bill being the only brother other than George he'd ever felt comfortable opening up to about feelings in this fashion. Despite knowing Bill wouldn't take the mickey when he realized how serious this was to him and his twin, he could feel his hands shake slightly.

"We want to show her how much she matters to us, how our feelings don't lessen or change when we're out of our sanctuary and into the real world. We want her to feel cherished, to know she's special…" Fred ended on a whisper, his typically jovial demeanor having abandoned him. Instead, Fred felt panic thread itself through his veins.

"What if we mess this up Bill? Or, with our world going belly up the way it is, she gets attacked, or — in her words — worse; being caught out off grounds and landing in trouble with the professors?

Bill's humor had faded as Fred's words spilled forth, instead, shifting to a countenance of empathy and understanding. Placing his mug gently on the wooden countertop, he moved to the chair across from Fred's, flipping it around and straddling it while resting his forearms on the table in front of him. Fred felt rather than saw Bill's steady appraisal; brow slightly furrowed as he spread his fingers atop the table.

"First off, need a calming drought?"

Fred shook his head while shooting Bill an affronted look at his casual query.

"You know we don't use those if we can help it. Not after the… reaction… we experienced last year."

Bill had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Riiiiiiiight, sorry. My mistake. I was in between countries when that happened, moving and sorting out all the bureaucratic bullshite. I remember the letter from mum but forgot the details."

"You wouldn't if it happened to you," muttered Fred.

Bill shrugged. "Could'a been worse. Could'a been Muriel."

They both shuddered, before Bill returned to their original discussion.

"So, next, I guess…You two are not going to mess this up. From what you've told me, she's as smitten as you two are, even if she hasn't had years of build up propelling her to this point. She bloody well took the first step, the biggest risk of all, by writing to you _both_ in the first place. She gave you a coin to directly message her, with impressive charms and spellwork impregnated into them, might I add. Made specifically for you, adding more work for her on top of what is already an insane course load, if I remember correctly."

"It is," nodded Fred. He felt less like he'd ingested 'you-no-poo' and more relaxed at Bill's words, though he still wore a slight furrow to his brow.

"We don't want to make trouble for her with school seeing as term is in session and she shouldn't be out of bounds or breaking curfew. Also seeing as only a handful currently know about us, any public setting is out. Which leaves the dilemma of what to do… we contemplated apparating somewhere outside of Britain, but shelved that as it gets dicey with international travel regulations and monitoring."

"Quite,"said Bill, nodding and drumming his fingers upon the table top in contemplation before saying, "From how I see it, you have a few options. Play to your strengths, or go muggle. Either will be sure to dazzle her."

He flashed Fred a sly grin before reaching into his trouser pocket and pulling out a key.

A key, unlike any Fred had ever seen, but knew instantly. His eyes widened in shock.

"Or you can use my new place if you wish." Bill said, sliding the key across the table with a wink. "All I ask is that you please stick to the common areas of the apartment…. Fleur and I have yet to break the place in fully by commissioning it. At least, not completely."

Fred forced a laugh out as Bill waggled his eyebrows, though it came out sounding strangled as he took the key from his brother with reverence. He'd never seen a Goblin Relic key before, and the intricate beauty made his breath catch in his chest. He'd heard about them in passing during History of Magic with Binns; had even researched the core magical theories for an experimental concept him and George had pondered exploring, though their findings were disappointing and as such, had abandoned that direction of research. Fred had never seen one of these keys outside of crude hand sketches based on wizard's vague memories, and those had utterly failed to capture the keys magnificence, the raw power he felt emanating in his hand.

"You have… a _key_?" Fred whispered.

"I have a key." Nodded Bill. "One must be careful in their dealings with Goblins, lest the wizard be left worse off. But if a wizard can be of assistance to a Goblin where the Goblin's need is greater than the risk to the wizard himself, one may be rewarded quite handsomely."

"Is that how you came by this?" Asked Fred.

"It's a long, convoluted — must have a few drinks in me first — tale. Needless to say, a Goblin ended up owing me a life debt, and to get around that pesky debt, offered me this key as repayment instead."

"Does anyone —"

"Only Fleur, now you, and soon, George."

Bill leaned forward and said gravely, "I'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from mentioning this key and my possession of it to Hermione."

Fred raised his startled gaze to Bill, who hastened to clarify. "She's too close to Harry, Fred, and therefore both Dumbledore and Voldemort. It's not that I don't trust her, though in full honesty, I don't really know her outside of what you and your brothers have parlayed. I will not entrust someone I've only spoken to a handful of times with something so powerful and rare. Can you imagine what either of those two old wizards could do if they controlled the key's power? To my knowledge, no one knows if its existence save for the four of us and I wish to keep it as such for now."

Bill rested his elbows on the table and ran his hands through his hair, reknotting the thong of leather tying his hair back in a low ponytail. He raised suddenly weary eyes to meet Fred's. "Knowledge can be both a blessing and a curse. Hermione is burdened with enough dangerous knowledge as it is, I will not add to it."

Fred nodded, though looked at Bill shrewdly. "You make it sound as if Dumbledore isn't to be trusted."

Bill's smile was tight, and Fred noticed a strain around his eyes as he said, "I'm not alluding to anything of the sort, though I've learned through my line of work not to trust blindly. There are instances in Dumbledore's past that would make me disinclined to, expose, if you will, all my cards of beliefs and opinions. He is the Order's leader and the paragon of the light, so there will be no outward dissent from me unless absolutely warranted."

Bill coughed and his jaw hardened slightly. Fred felt his throat tighten, he'd only seen his brother adopt the look currently upon Bill's face when someone had threatened or hurt a family member growing up.

"I won't say I've agreed with how he's handled certain situations — namely Ginny's abduction and attempted murder in her first year and the subsequent hush-up, and last year's debacle at the ministry that almost lost me another sibling and maimed quite a few other students quite seriously. I've had many strongly worded discussions with mum and dad about these events, but they disagree with my views, so that's the end of it."

"Hermione's close to Ginny." Said Fred softly. "She chewed George and I out for treating Ginny like a fragile flower who couldn't be trusted to know her own mind. She reminded us of the strength she exhibited resisting Voldemort's possession as well as she did, and also informed us that Ginny knows and fully supports our relationship. It came as a shock, the latter information, but her reminder about Ginny's first year brought back to us how utterly we failed her. We won't do that again."

Fred looked Bill square in the eye. "If there's anything you disagree with in how the war efforts are being carried out, we trust you fully Bill and will follow your advice instead of whoever's in charge; George and I. You've always had our backs and a unique perspective on logic and the intricacies of a plot; as well as a healthy respect for risks and the complexity of magics outside of those deemed acceptable practices. Between you and Ron, I don't know of any other tacticians worth their salt."

Bill smiled at Fred, giving him a nod of appreciation.

"Will do, little brother."

"So," said Fred, turning the subject back to shallower waters, "did you two decide on a name for the new place?"

"We did," Bill smile was one of fondness. "Shell cottage."

"Sounds quaint," said Fred. He was still tracing his finger along the edge of the metal, taking in the intricate etchings and cool kiss of the elemental magic against his fingertip when Bill held out his hand.

"Now that you've touched it, your essence has been accepted through the wards surrounding the property. The key provides a stronger bond of secrecy and security than the fidelus charm, though has the unfortunate requirement of each person needing physical interaction with the key for acceptance through the wards."

Fred made to speak as he handed his brother back the key, but Bill forestalled him with a raised hand. "George, being your identical twin, has a mirroring magical core to your own. The key has acknowledged his existence and has granted permission by proxy through you. For Hermione, as long as you side along she will be accepted. This is the only way she may currently access the property." He twisted his face into what looked like an apologetic smile, but Fred waved him off with a genuine smile of his own.

"Have I mentioned yet today that you're my favorite brother Bill?" He said, flashing him a wide smile of genuine affection. "Just don't tell George… he thinks that title is his."

Bill laughed, and as he moved back to the kitchen counter to finish slapping together their sandwiches, talk turned toward the twin's plans for their upcoming date with Hermione, their mum's continued dislike of Fleur and the plans for Bill's upcoming nuptials.


	13. Chapter 13

**Legal : I am not J.K. Rowling, and therefore do not make any money from this story. I own nothing but the plot of this story.**

 **A/N: Reposted due to wonky updates the past couple weeks.**

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **Chapter 13**

George was lighting the final candle on the table with a flick of his wrist when he heard two pops, announcing apparition. Moving out toward the sitting room, he glanced through the window and watched Fred escort Hermione up the cobbled path from their point of arrival. They'd agreed it was best for one of them to stay behind and finish off their evening's preparations while the other retrieved Hermione; seeing as Fred had physically touched the key to the wards, he'd decided it'd be best for him to do the retrieving.

Hermione and Fred were a few minutes past when George had been expecting them to arrive, and he could see through the light of the setting sun that Fred's navy tie was slightly askew. George surmised they'd indulged in a prolonged welcome prior to apparating, and looked forward to bestowing upon her his own greeting.

The sun was waning over the ocean, blanketing everything it touched with threads of hazy crimsons and golds — a true Gryffindor sky if he'd ever seen one, and one that assisted in setting the tone for their evening.

"Welcome, our darling." George said, opening the door with a flourish. Fred ushered her through with a gently placed hand to the small of her back. "May we take your robes?"

"You my, thank you," she said, smiling up at George.

A tantalizing blush bloomed across Hermione's cheeks as she removed her arm from where she'd looped it through the crook of Fred's elbow and reached for the clasp at the top of her robes. Her fingers appeared to tremble slightly as she undid the clasp, parting the panels as Fred moved to slide them away from her body.

George's breath hitched in his throat and his trousers felt suddenly a tad tighter as he gazed upon Hermione, now devoid of her school robes and resplendent in a dress, the deepest shade of magenta he'd ever seen. The dress was casual, the cut was simple, and the detailing subtle but the overall effect — _she_ — was breathtaking.

To see her donning a frock of their favorite shade… George subtly shifted so as to relieve the pressure a bit in his trousers.

He heard Fred's intake of breath from where he stood slightly behind her holding her robes and knew he was as affected by her efforts, her understated elegance, as he himself was.

"You look—" began George, but found he couldn't speak passed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

She'd dressed up, for them, for their date. It was the first time, save for the Yule ball, that they'd seen Hermione in any sort of fancy-dress, and they'd all been significantly younger; not as developed. George found that his imagination had not prepared him for the reality of her matured perfection, the likes of which her school uniform did not do adequate justice.

Uncharacteristically lost for words, George did the only thing he could think of in that moment. He stepped forward and melded his lips to hers. Cognizant of her attempt to secure her hair into an updo of sorts, he refrained from raking his fingers through the wiry strands — something he itched to do — and instead, cupped her face gently as his tongue teased her lips, seeking entrance.

"Mmmmmm…" sighed Hermione, "Hello to you too, George —"

As her lips parted for him eagerly, he poured all that the sight of her evoked in him into the kiss, only breaking it when he felt the kiss begin to change pace, hinting at a progression to… more.

Slowly pulling back, he leaned his forehead against hers, their breath mingling as they fought to regain control.

"You look divine, Hermione," breathed George, bestowing a kiss upon her nose before stepping back and offering her his hand.

"As do you, George," Hermione said, giving him a thoroughly heated once over as her right hand slid into his. Smoothing her left hand down the deep grey tie he wore over a crisp black button down tucked into pressed trousers, she let her fingers play with the end before she stood on tip toe and planted a kiss upon his cheek. "You both look delectable. I am an incredibly greedy witch, keeping you both all to myself."

The smile she sent him indicated she didn't much care about what others might think of her hoarding their affections.

Fred and he had put definitive effort into their own appearances for the evening, and from the way Hermione's eyes devoured first him and then Fred, their efforts had been well worth it.

"Fred mentioned this is Bill's new home for when him and Fleur marry, and it's currently a secret." Hermione said, glancing around the sitting room leading off from the entrance. George saw Fred nod. "It's lovely, very welcoming and cozy." She ran her free hand along the top of the sofa nearest her, a look of puzzlement settling upon her brow. "Though, the wedding isn't until summer, yet their house appears almost completely furnished and decorated…"

"Mum has access through the wards of his current apartment," said George with a canary-eating grin and Hermione laughed.

"Ahhhhh…. Well then. I appreciate their method of… self preservation." Hermione nodded, chortling. "I must say, I'd love to pick Bill's brain about warding practices and the possibility of combining magic and scientific DNA markers one day…" she murmured, her eyes glazing over slightly as they tended to do when her mind began contemplating an intriguing concept. George exchanged a bemused look with Fred, who'd ventured toward the kitchen after hanging up Hermione's robe.

' _That's our girl_ ,' George thought, leading her by the hand further into the house.

"Something smells delicious," Hermione said, giving an appreciative sniff to the air.

George exchanged a grin with Fred, who said, "if there's one thing we learned from our mother, it's how to cook."

"We just don't advertise this exceptional skill set of ours," said George.

"As we'd be roped into helping out in the kitchen every family meal like Ginny instead of outside, causing mayhem and engaging in frivolities." Continued Fred.

"Perish the thought," cheeked Hermione, hopping up onto a wooden stool topped with a pale blue padded cushion that was against the kitchen island.

"Or worse," said George, with a mock shudder. "We'd be asked to _host_ a family supper…"

"So, lovely witch of ours, you are now privy to one of our closest held secrets." Fred said, in a dreadfully serious voice as George moved to stand beside him.

"We can cook…really well!" They said in unison, and George saw Hermione swallow a laugh before sobering up her face.

"I shan't breathe a word of it," she whispered solemnly, though George saw the twinkle in her eyes.

"Appreciate that, miss," he said, tipping the brim of an imaginary cap at her.

"We'd racked our brains on the best place to bring you, and what type of activity to engage in for our first 'outside-the-shack' date." Said Fred, leaning against the counter. If George didn't know his twin as well as he did, he'd have assumed Fred was calm and confident in their choice of first date outside the shack. In reality, both he and Fred were a bundle of nerves, desperately hoping the night would flow smoothly, and Hermione would be receptive to their decision.

"Should we wait until we could meet during the day on a weekend," continued George.

"Or plan for an evening engagement." Said Fred. "We didn't fancy waiting to see you, so evening was best suited."

"We also didn't want to put you at risk either physically or for expulsion from Hogwarts if we ventured into the Wizarding world and someone should recognize you." Said George.

"Our location problems were solved once I chatted up Bill and he offered us this lovely abode to use. And as we mentioned, we never cook for anyone except ourselves."

"We wanted you to know this part of us, to experience one of our interests and passions that aren't publicly known nor magically based."

"So for now, this is as close to real world exposure as we're willing to risk you for at present time. We hope you aren't put out or disappointed…" Fred trailed off.

"George, Fred," Hermione began, sliding off the stool and making her way toward where they stood on the other side of the island; warmth saturating every word. "This is perfect. I couldn't have envisioned a more perfect first date in the real world." She used air quotes when saying the word real, and George felt his chest relax with happiness.

Beside him, he heard Fred's wand give a chirp.

"Supper is ready to be served," George said, clapping his hands as Fred moved beside Hermione.

"May I escort you to your seat, mademoiselle?" Fred asked Hermione, proffering his arm with a bow.

"You may, kind sir," Hermione giggled, a delightful tinkle that sent goosebumps up George's arms. He'd never really heard her giggle before and found the sound endearing in it's innocence. He vowed to do more to evoke more giggles from her in the future.

He followed behind Fred and Hermione as they walked into the dining nook just off the kitchen, slightly out of view of the kitchen and sitting room.

"Oh Fred, George…" Hermione said, her hand coming to rest at her throat. "This is… this is wonderful." She moved toward the table, her expression one of reverence and appreciation.

The table had been set in an intimately romantic fashion without coming off oppressive or suffocatingly cluttered.

Different types of flower buds in varying shades of violet floated in water, filling a shallow hand-carved wooden boat they'd placed in the center of the table. Above the centerpiece, minuscule white candles floated, swaying slightly up and down and spilling their illumination over the rest of the table in a dance of shadows and light. They'd pre-set the aged wooden table with violet placemats, white plates, clear stemwear and silver cutlery, along with white napkins, and the overall effect was one of elegance, sophistication and intention.

"My favorite color," breathed Hermione, appearing to taking in the tableau in front of her. "I can't believe you even remembered me mentioning my love of violet at the World Cup!"

"You'd be surprised what we remember about you, what we know about you, Hermione." Said Fred huskily, and George nodded his concurrence.

George had never been more thankful for Fleur's abundance of French decor publications, which had proved quite helpful in assisting him and Fred with a direction for the aesthetics portion of their date. Romantic table-settings weren't something they had previous exposure to, and had spent a better part a day pouring over previous issues looking for the right tone and arrangement.

Fred had pulled out the chair at the head of the table and was motioning for Hermione to sit. George removed the Devonshire squab pie that'd been baking in the stove, along with the tray of roasted vegetables. Ladling the vegetables into a serving dish, he levitated the dish along with the squab pie toward the table. Once they'd been set down upon the table with a soft thud, he uncorked the elf wine they'd purchased from Rosmerta and moved toward the vacant seat to Hermione's left.

"I'm so thankful you mentioned not to eat supper at the castle," said Hermione, eyeing the food in front of her how she'd eyed him earlier, George realized. "I'd be right cross if I was too stuffed to appreciate your meal properly."

"Another fine use of your coins," said George. "Rescuing witches from sore stomachs."

Fred reached across and began slicing the pie into quarters, and then eighths.

"You can take the leftovers and give them to Ron. He always appreciates a good squab pie," said Fred. "Only, tell him it came from a restaurant, not that we baked it."

"Of course," replied Hermione, her eyes suddenly soft and dewy. George filed away the information that actually being thoughtful toward their brother — her friend — and not always taking the piss, would stand them in good stead.

Hermione served herself a slice of the lamb, apple and spiced pie along with a heaping helping of roasted potatoes, zucchini and wild mushrooms flavored with rosemary, thyme, among other herbs and spices and liberally tossed in creamy butter. Fred and George did the same. Piercing the pastry with the tongs of her fork, she cut off a piece of pie before bringing it up to her mouth.

George and Fred sat in mirrored pensiveness, awaiting her verdict. They knew they were damn good cooks, but this was their girl, and they really wished to impress her. They'd made one of their favorite dishes, and paired it with the freshest vegetables they'd been able to procure. For afters, they'd baked scones, to be topped with raspberry jam and clotted cream.

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as she gave a sound of complete and utter contentment that went directly to George's groin. Feeling himself harden at her guttural moan of delight, George subtly reached down to adjust himself, noticing Fred also squirming slightly in his chair across.

' _Bloody hell,'_ George thought, ' _if she keeps making those sounds I'll be done before the first course!_ '

Opening her eyes, Hermione placed both hands on the table, gripping the edge with her thumbs.

"You immensely talented men! My mouth just experienced a gustatory orgasm!"

"Keep making those sounds, Sweets, and my pants will bear witness to my own orgasm." George said, and he saw Hermione's gaze lower, as if she could see below the table.

His cock gave a twitch in hopeful anticipation.

The rest of their meal passed with animated conversations covering a variety of topics, laughter, and sexually charged innuendos. It felt cathartic, George reflected, sitting there, the three of them; it felt like… home.

' _This will be our life,'_ he thought, but didn't voice aloud. It felt too premature, too assuming, especially with war knocking at the door.

"This meal is incredible, truly." She said, her eyes earnest. "I'm deeply honored you've let me in on this secret talent of yours." Her smile turned cagey. "Though now that I'm aware, don't think for a second I won't take advantage, and make ridiculous requests for pastys and scones when my tastebuds fancy a treat." She winked and both Fred and George laughed.

"Hermione," Fred said, leaning forward, arms leaning on the table, "we will give your mouth a treat whenever—"

"Wherever."

"You wish!"

"And well even whip up a special batch of clotted cream," said George with a wink. "Though we don't promise it'll make it onto a scone."

"Shame that," replied Hermione, as she licked the last of the cream from her dessert off her spoon.

The rest of their date was spent lounging on the sofa Hermione had traced her hand along upon entering, each of them sated with good food and wine. Hermione was sandwiched in between Fred and himself, her head tucked into the crook of George's arm and one of her legs swung over Fred's lap, the other on the floor. For all their heated banter during their supper, the current air between them was relaxed and devoid of the frenzied passion of their other encounters.

' _This is nice,_ ' thought George, finally able to thread his fingers through her mass of curls, as she'd removed the pins securing them in the quasi-updo before curling into him on the sofa. ' _I wish we had longer, to just… be, like this…'_

"Thank you for a wonderful date," murmured Hermione, burrowing deeper into George's side. Looking down, he saw her eyes were closed, and he couldn't help but drop a kiss upon her forehead.

Locking eyes with Fred, George knew his twin's thoughts mirrored his own.

' _She's our forever._ '

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **A/N: Thank you to everyone who follows, favorites or reviews this story. I'm so glad you're enjoying it 3**

 **Here's the recipe for the pie Fred and George made:**

 **Devonshire Squab Pie**

Unusual but delicious, traditional English pie, made with lamb neck fillet, spices, apples and prunes topped with shortcrust pastry and traditionally served with clotted cream.

 **Serves:**

4

 **Time to prepare:**

15 minutes

 **Cooking time:**

1 hour

 **Ingredients:**

450g/1lb lean lamb neck fillet, sliced

Salt and freshly milled black pepper

Pinch ground nutmeg

2.5ml/½tsp ground mace

2.5ml/½tsp ground cinnamon

10ml/2tsp cornflour

1 red apple, cored and sliced into thin wedges

1 medium onion, peeled and sliced

8 dried ready-to-eat prunes, chopped

10ml/2tsp light brown sugar

150ml/¼pint good, hot lamb stock

350g prepared shortcrust pastry

1 egg, beaten

 **Method:**

In a large bowl mix the lamb, seasoning, spices and cornflour together.

Arrange the lamb, apple and onion in layers, Add the prunes, sugar and stock.

Preheat the oven to Gas mark 3, 170°C, 325°F.

On a floured surface roll out the pastry large enough to fit over a 1.2L/2pint ovenproof pie dish. Dampen the edge of the dish with a little water and place the pastry on top of the dish. Trim off any excess pastry and press and crimp the edges to seal. Brush with the beaten egg and cook in the oven for 1 hour until golden brown.

Serve the pie the traditional way with clotted cream, seasonal vegetables and potatoes.


	14. Chapter 14

**Legal** **: I am not J.K. Rowling, and therefore do not make any money from this story. I own nothing but the plot of this story.**

 **A/N: Reposting due to 's wonky updates the last couple weeks. I hope you enjoy this chapter ;)**

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **Chapter 14**

The Tuesday following the incredible date at Shell Cottage, Hermione asked Ron casually during Herbology if he'd accompany her to Slughorn's party. Harry, the berk, had misinterpreted the intention of her request — he wasn't privy to knowledge about her romantic status nor her conversation about 'friends only' with Ron — and had proceeded to make the rest of the class extremely awkward for her with shifty sideways glances and forced joviality.

Ron, for his part, had accepted the invitation in the manner it was intended with grateful relief, told Harry to get a grip, and later during supper, confided in Hermione that he was planning to ask Lavender to the next Hogsmeade trip and asked if she had any advice on how best to approach her. Hermione felt her chest relax at his confession, not realizing until that very moment that she'd held onto the illogical fear he'd never truly move on, despite their previous talks and his assurances. She was immensely relieved to have her friend back solely in the role of a best mate, and graciously began discussing ways for Ron to ask Lavender out.

During the next fortnight, Hermione was either unable to leave the castle, or Fred and George had messaged through the coin saying they were regretfully indisposed. Their coins were constantly rotating through the colors purple, red and blue, with a few magentas thrown in there. Sorrow seemed to be the predominate theme when their cancellation missives passed through the coin, the purple hue heralding their displeasure at the longer separation.

Hermione never thought she would be jealous of a color, but she was beginning to loathe magenta, if only for the sole reason that she wasn't there to share in their pleasure.

She'd seen them as often as she and they were able since their date at Shell Cottage — a total of six times together and once with George alone where the evening had ended with his cock in her mouth — but other than that pleasurable interlude, their visits had been more about exploring magical theories than each other due to the immense workload Hermione was finding herself under and the heavy demand for new products for Fred and George. She relished the time they did spend together, in whatever capacity, especially the evenings where they'd heatedly discuss methods of brewing a certain potion or disagree over some theory or another before falling to the couch in a tangle of lips and limbs.

She cherished the fact they were growing closer as a team, as a unit, and knew that when the world found out about them, they'd be that much stronger against whatever backlash and judgements they'd surely receive.

It was a struggle, though, to find a proper balance, as well as maintain the current shroud of secrecy regarding their relationship. Either she spread herself too thin and attempted to be everything to everyone; running herself ragged by the weekend into a titchy, exhausted mess. Or, she felt the pendulum swing the opposite way, spending all her time and energy on one source to all exclusion, and neglecting the other areas and people of her life.

School had always been the constant, her unerring anchor. But that was now changing. Harry was beating her in a class other than Defense, and for the first time in her life, Hermione had more than one group of friends to divide her time between, plus two highly pleasurable beaus with whom she was infallibly falling head over heels for; who were quickly becoming her new true north.

Her constant was shifting, and aligning itself to her two wizards.

'My safe place to fall,' she thought warmly.

She was frustrated that she'd made little headway on that blasted cube, but after throwing it against the wall in a fit of pique one morning, she heard the rattle of an object inside.

' _Mmmmm… I wonder what they've hidden…'_ she'd thought, curiosity heightened. She'd redoubled her efforts, and hoped she'd soon crack the puzzle before her frustrations mounted further.

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

A warm hand trailed itself up and down her spine, teasing her flesh and drawing forth goosebumps. Hermione shivered as the finger slowly dragged itself up and around, settling itself against her stomach where it kept up its languid cadence of strokes. She felt the body behind her slightly shift, drawing her more against his frame — her back to his front — and she sighed in contentment at the feel of his excitement pressing prominently against her back. She lay entwined in his embrace, recumbent against his chiseled chest, nestled in between sturdy legs that supported her, cradled her.

She felt a slightly callused hand grasp her hip tightly — its thumb rubbing circles along the plane of her hipbone — though the angle of the arm attached to this hand leant itself to another... Another situated lower, much lower than the owner of the first hand currently touring the landscape of her torso. Another whose head was presently situated in a very intimate locale and who's toned naked backside was on full and mouthwatering display as he lay sprawled in front of her below.

She arched her back into the sweat-slicked naked man supporting her as feather light kisses began dropping onto the inside of her thigh — alternating sides and rhythm — and she shivered again at the feel of those caresses and a tongue lapping at the skin of her neck. The juxtaposition of sensations and their placements were deliciously maddening, and she was sure if she glanced in a mirror she'd see a woman gazing back with cheeks flushed and eyes wild with barely contained passion and need. Looking down at herself through heavy lidded eyes, she took in her disrobed state — naked save for her knickers and a flimsy cotton shirt — one so worn through that the cotton was almost opaque. Her nipples were visible through the thin material and demanding attention.

She squirmed again against the hard, solid frame radiating heat behind her, reaching up and around, grasping the man's hair, tugging harder than she meant to in her near delirious state.

"Fuuuuck…" She heard escape on a nearl growl followed by a contented male sigh near her ear and felt the bulge behind her harden even more. Teeth latched onto her left lobe, biting down hard enough to elicit a startled gasp before switching fluidly to a soothing suckling, his lips and tongue moving down towards the crook of her neck once more. Subconsciously tilting her head to provide better access, she gasped yet again in pure bliss.

The other wizard had finished trailing kisses up her thighs and she felt his tongue now playing along the outline of her knickers; toying with proximity and pressure. Teasing, retreating. Under, over. Driving her mad with want.

She reached down with her free hand and sunk her fingers into Fred's hair, urging him with the clench of her grip to find his target — and fast. Behind her she heard George let out an earthy growl as she adjusted her legs to give Fred — who was visible to both of them — more access, and George's hands moved up to cup her breasts possessively, hoisting and weighing; his thumbs stroking her nipples over the thin cotton separation into even sharper relief.

"Oh Merlin," She gasped as George tweaked her left nipple, and he gave a another gravelly growl at the noises their actions were eliciting from her, rewarding her for her vocal participation by planting nips along her jawline.

"There's no Merlin here Hermione," he whispered in an almost feral tone, his voice husky with desire. "Only your wizards. Yours." And he dragged his teeth along her ear once more, nipping the lobe as she squirmed in pleasure.

Just as Hermione thought she'd explode from the leisurely torture the twins were putting her hyper-sensitive body through, she felt something hit her square in the face, sending her body jerking back—

—back into a soft yet slightly lumpy mattress, devoid of any other person save for herself. A mattress that bore no signs of the pleasurable activity she'd just felt herself engaged in.

Hermione saw two heads peering down at her from either side of her bed as she lay there panting. Heads that had not been currently near her moments before. Neither were ginger, nor of the male persuasion.

Sitting bolt upright, she swiveled her head around, completely disoriented at the abrupt change in sensation and circumstance. She had to work at getting her breathing under control and ran a hand over her sweat slicked forehead, pushing aside her fringe.

"Oh thank Merlin!" Exclaimed Lavender. "We weren't sure if we needed to run and get professor McGonagall. We've been trying to wake you up for ages!"

"You were?" Hermione asked, surprised at how rough and hoarse her throat sounded.

"Ya," Parvati said, and Hermione rubbed her sleep encrusted eyes while her other roommate prattled on, "you were thrashing around like you were being crucio'd and moaning something fierce. When you wouldn't wake..."

"We felt your forehead and you were so sweaty; almost fever like. A bit gross really." Said Lavender with a hint of a grimace, "So if you hadn't woken by hitting your face with a pillow, we'd have gone for help." she finished.

"The pillow might have been revenge for waking me up." Muttered Parvati, moving toward her bed.

Hermione felt her face flame with embarrassment as she realized what she'd thought and felt as real had been only a dream - a very realistic dream.

She was thankful for the cloak of night that hid her rouge-tinged visage, however, she felt her stomach sink as she realized once more she still hadn't experienced what her subconscious desperately wanted her to.

' _Another bloody dream,_ ' she thought, and a wave of disappointment crashed through her.

"I'm fine thank you. Bad dream, can't really remember now what exactly..." Hermione mumbled the first thing she could think of, "Sorry I woke you. I appreciate you checking on me. I'll cast some silencing charms in case it happens again tonight..."

' _Knowing how I'm feeling, it probably will,'_ She thought grumpily as Lavender retreated to her bed after ensuring that yes, yes she was fine — truly — and to get some sleep.

' _I wish I could apparate my two wizards here to make my dream a reality!'_ Hermione thought, her body tingling and all her nerves on edge.

She lay there, listening to her roommates toss and turn as they were once more reacquainted with the comforts of their own beds for what seemed like hours, but in reality was probably minutes.

' _Enough_ ,' Hermione thought, ' _I can't take this anymore.'_

She waited until the sounds of sleep drifted towards her from the beds on either side before reaching under her pillow, grasping the galleon she tucked there every night and thinking ' _NOW_!'

As quietly as she could, she climbed out of bed, threw on her cloak and and tiptoed from the room; casting a dissillusionment charm on herself just outside the door to their dorm.

Briefly ensuring the cloaking charm had worked, she all but flew down the dormitory stairs, through the deserted common room and out into the hallway, through the disgruntled portrait of the Fat Lady — who loudly voiced her disgruntlement at being opened by an invisible student in the midnight hours.

Hermione made her way through the castle, out the front doors and to the whomping willow without incident, and used the gift the twin's had given her to temporarily halt the branches so she could scamper into the tunnel. Her heart was racing, not just from exertion to get to the shack, but in anticipation.

She was done waiting, done playing it safe and methodical and taking time worrying about how best to wade through these new waters she, they, were swimming in.

She finally realized what they'd been attempting to get through to her. There were no rules, other than the rules of respect, kindness, trust, and honesty. And in full honesty, she needed her men; needed to feel them with her, needed to submerge herself in their essence and physicality.

She took the shack's staircase steps two at a time, up to the room they'd created for her — for them — a Sanctuary from the developing brutality of the Wizarding World around them. A safe haven for them to grow their bond.

Flinging open the door, she all but hurled herself into the room, coming to a halt in front of Fred and George — who'd already arrived — who looked, at first glance, to be prone for battle. Well, Fred did. George looked… intense, and Hermione's body shook under the heat of his gaze.

Upon a quick second glance at the two of them, she noticed their lack of what would be considered 'proper' clothing, their dishevelment giving the air of those who'd been snatched from their beds.

'I did snatch them,' she thought as she openly admired her bed-rumpled wizards. She felt her mouth begin to salivate.

' _My subconscious was lacking…'_ she thought somewhat bemusedly.

"All right, Hermione?" Asked Fred, striding towards her and reaching for her hand, a look of concern upon his sleep creased face. George was still staring at her with blazing eyes, and as she turned her gaze upon him, he flicked his tongue and ran it along the line of his top lip. She felt her temperature begin to rise again.

"Fred, did you happen to notice the color of the coin before you apparated here by chance?" George asked.

"No," Fred said, looking puzzled, she noticed, before shifting her gaze back upon George. "I just felt the heat against my neck, saw her message and came here without a second thought."

"Well, my dear brother, I did." George moved towards her now, his eyes never leaving hers, his gaze molten. "And it was very… very… magenta."

He was beside her now, and he slid his arms around her waist, holding her in a loose embrace. She kept her eyes on his as she bit her bottom lip. Fred's eyes had gone round at George's proclamation and then narrowed in anticipation.

"You don't say…" He drawled, moving closer to Hermiones side."Well now, if it wasn't already, that might just have become my new favorite color."

"I thought we'd have to wait a few days longer to see you, Hermione, but Gred, I think our little witch is feeling a tad bit frustrated tonight. Something only we can help her relieve…" George purred, his eyes never wavering from her face.

Her left hand still enveloped in Freds — who, upon George's statement, had tightened on hers before threading his long fingers through hers — she trailed her right hand up George's arm and began playing with the strands of hair along his sleep shirt's collar.

She licked her lips, stood on her toes and leaned up to whisper in his ear, "correct in one, my very observant wizard."

She moved back so that she could see both their expressions as she said. "I need you; both of you. Make me yours. I'll sneak back before morning…"

She saw the predatory smile inch it's way across George's lips and Freds face light up like a kid on Christmas morning.

As Fred led her towards the couch, which was now a permanent fixture in the room, George said behind her, "I can guarantee you, Granger, that you'll be cuming faster than we did coming here tonight."

"And not just once," said Fred, pulling her down beside him on the couch and moving her legs so she could straddle his lap. "Want to bet on how many times we can make you scream?"

She shuddered in anticipation and licked her lips, settling her bottom more firmly on his lap and relishing the hardness she could feel pressing up firmly between her legs.

"Let's put your mouth to better use than betting for now, shall we," said George, and tipped her head back, dropping an upside-down kiss upon her lips. The sensation of this kiss was new and different, thrilling, and as George skimmed her lips with his tongue, Fred's hands were moving under the hem of her sleep tank and danced along the skin of her back.

Breaking the kiss, George moved back to sit in one of the other armchairs. Hermione turned to look at him through heavy lidded eyes. She watched him settle himself, legs spread and body reclined slightly against the back of the chair. Fred's fingers were still tracing light patterns up and down her back, and she felt his cock twitch between her legs where it was nestled.

"Remember when George said he likes to watch," Fred murmured in her ear, his tongue coming out and tracing the outline as he waited for her response.

" _Yes_ ," she breathed out, gripping his shoulder while rocking slightly against the hardness between her legs.

"Well, let's give him a show to remember, sweets," he chuckled huskily before capturing her lips with his.

His kiss was molton, all heat and she gave as good as she received. One of his hands traveled south and cupped her bum, lifting and pressing her closer against his prominent bulge; the other reached down to caress her breast through the cotton of her sleep tank. All she could think of was the sensations of his kiss, his hands, and the knowledge of two eyes off to the side taking everything in.

Her sounds, her responses, their tableau.

It was such a turn on, knowing she was being watched, knowing that it was turning George on watching her. Watching them.

She broke the kiss, and, with a glint in her eye peeled herself off of Fred's lap. Standing in front of both her wizards, she kept her eyes and body facing Fred as she slowly, teasingly, began lifting the hem of her tank.

They'd fooled around before where shirts had come off but never before had she been completely topless in front of Fred — only George. Nor had she ever been completely naked in front of either of them, before tonight.

She pulled her sleep tank over her head, mindful of her untamed mound of hair that tended to get in the way.

Sadly, her hair decided not to cooperate and insisted on getting tangled up in the cotton as she pulled it over her head. She laughed awkwardly.

' _Well this is bloody brilliant,_ ' Hermione sulked inwardly. ' _Dead sexy, getting thwarted by my blasted hair!'_

After a moment of battling her unruly mane, Hermione plied her tank off with a flourish, blowing the errant strands off her face that fell haphazardly over her eyes.

'Have I told you how much your hair drives me wild?' Said Fred, eyes ablaze as he reached for an errant curl. 'It makes me think of all the ways I want to make _you_ come undone."

Hermione beamed.

Next, she shimmied out of her sleep trousers, leaving her plain white cotton knickers on. The contrast between the white and her tanned skin was striking, and standing there, her breasts peaked in desire, her body all but bare, Hermione felt pride in her ability to render her wizards speechless. Fred was gazing adoringly at her, smiling and reached out his hands to cup both her breasts simultaneously, his thumbs flicking over her pert nipples as she sighed in contentment.

Glancing over at George, she saw he had his cock out, and was stroking it leisurely as he looked upon her with a gaze so full of molten heat she felt her insides begin to sizzle under it.

She remembered the feel of his cock in her mouth — the smooth velvety head, the slight curve of his shaft to the left, the salty-sweet tang of his cum — from the last time she'd seen him, when it had just been him and her. Remembering had her salivating for more. She wondered what Fred's shaft felt like, looked like, tasted like; she felt herself become wet at the thought of exploring Fred as she'd done George.

She licked her lips at the sight George made, his hand gliding smoothly up and down as Fred began lavishing kisses upon each of her bare breasts. Fred's long fingers splayed across her lower back as he hauled her once more into his lap, his kisses more demanding and dominant, his grip more pronounced.

She kept her gaze riveted to George's as Fred took a nipple into his mouth, and as she ground against him as he lavished her nipple with attention, she saw George's hand speed up, his other gripping the arm of the chair.

Breaking eye contact, she bent forward, whispering, "Touch me…more… please!"

Fred growled and flipped her fluidly, so that she lay semi-recumbent against the bolster pillow along the sofa arm, legs spread with one foot on the floor and the other on the sofa. Kneeling on the floor beside her, he kissed his way down her bare chest, letting his tongue trace the outline of the top of her knickers before swirling back up to her belly button.

Hermione's stomach contracted.

"Mmmmm, a bit ticklish my dear?' murmured Fred.

She let out an undistinguishable sound of pleasure mixed with desperate need, and was rewarded by echoing husky chuckles.

"Please," she begged again.

"Such a needy witch," purred George from where he sat. "How would you feel if I told Fred to bring you to the edge, and keep you there? Not allowing you to climax until I gave approval?"

Hermione mewled, not anticipating the rush of adrenaline and desire that pooled within her at the thought of submitting to George's commands. Of Fred delaying her gratification, extricating every drop, every ounce of pleasure while George dictated terms.

"Not tonight George," said Fred, his voice telegraphing the strain of his arousal. "I won't be able to hold out that long, and I don't think she will either, looking at her…"

"Another time, our sweets." Said George, and Hermione felt herself anticipating fulfilling the future promise.

Fred's tongue descended once more and traced the band for one last sweep before dragging down and licking her through her knickers. Hermione keened.

"Up," Fred commanded softly, and as Hermione lifted her bum, he looped his thumbs on either side of her hips and smoothly pulled her knickers down. He sat back slightly so he could pull them off her legs, tossing them on the floor beside where he knelt.

He remained where he was and Hermione could see both him and George staring at her, splayed, bare and oh so wet with breasts flushed and heaving with desire.

Fred's hand began stroking her mound before slowly inserting a finger. A second joined the first, and he began a steady rhythm of twists and pumps that had her shaking.

The look of utter contentment and concentration adorning Fred's face sent butterflies into her stomach that had nothing to do with the pleasure he was currently wringing from her.

Looking over, she saw George slow his strokes, but his cock was still incredibly firm and at full mast. As Fred bent forward and began running his tongue along her now exposed and swollen clit, she gave a small mewl and saw George's eyes smolder and his hand speed up.

She closed her eyes at the feelings Fred's tongue and roaming hands were eliciting, and soon was nothing more than a mindless puddle of building delectable pressure and ecstasy.

As Fred flicked his tongue once more while his fingers curled themselves against her front wall, she shattered… Hermione half rose off the sofa and her leg muscles tightened; her whole body shuddered before becoming limp like an overdone noodle.

"Ohhhh Fred… that was…"

"My pleasure," he said huskily, licking his lips.

As Hermione lay there, the post orgasmic glow saturating her body, she began to feel the slight chill that winter brought to even the most fortified of houses. The shack, this room — though spruced up and warded — was definitely not fortified to repel all the winter winds.

Especially naked.

"Chilled? Fred asked.

"A bit," she replied sheepishly. "Sorry."

Fred shushed her by placing his slender, callused finger to her lips, shaking his head with a gentle smile.

"No apologies, only pleasure tonight." He said, grinning like a child discovering sweets for the first time.

Sitting up, she leaned forward, cupping his face with her hands and kissed Fred firmly, tasting herself upon his lips. Reaching down, she plucked her knickers , sleep trousers and top from the floor and shimmied into them before sitting once more on the sofa, pulling Fred up from the floor to sit with her.

Glancing over at George, she saw him reclined in the chair, eyes closed with a contented smile dancing across his lips. His hand still gripped his now flacid cock, and his chest gleamed with the evidence of his own orgasm as it rose and fell with the early stage of slumber.

"Let him sleep," Fred whispered, leaning toward her and resting his forehead against hers. "He's right knackered, it's been a hellish week."

She threaded her fingers through his hair, and he gave a sigh of contentment.

"It seems one of us has been left wanting," she purred, cupping his erecting through his sleep trousers and shifting so she could look him in the eye. "Is there something I can do for you?"

She was intrigued to see a blush tinge his cheeks at her question.

"Fred?" She queried. "You can tell me anything… I'd never judge you your predilections…"

"Wouldyousitonmyface?" Fred asked in a rush.

"I'm sorry, what?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

Fred took a deep breath than asked softly, "Would you sit on my face?"

"Of course!" Hermione replied immediately, then worried her lip between her teeth. "Fred…I've never done that before… what do I do?" Hermione asked earnestly, desperately wanting to fulfill her wizards every fantasy as best she was able.

"May I transfigure your sleep trousers into your uniform skirt?"

Hermione stood.

Fred waved his wand and uttered the incantation. Hermione found herself wearing her uniform skirt, albeit about four inches shorter than the regulations allowed. He hadn't stopped there though. He'd also transfigured her shirt into a white button down that just barely buttoned and exposed a healthy amount of cleavage, and had conjured a tie that hung loosely around her neck.

She gave herself a once over before raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"What can I say… I have a lot of fantasies that contain you in your uniform." Said Fred with a grin.

Hermione chuckled.

"Now just straddle my face," Directed Fred, reclining flat upon the sofa.

"Won't I crush you?" Said Hermione nervously, her hands fidgeting with themselves.

"Not a chance," Fred flashed her a reassuring grin, "though if you did, what a way to go!"

"Oh honestly," Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't contain the grin that flirted with her lips.

"In all seriousness Hermione, I'm positive you won't hurt me. Though if you're truly concerned, how about, I'll tap your leg to signal I'm finished, so you know when to swing off?"

Nodding dubiously, she climbed atop the sofa and lowered herself down into a kneel so she was hovering above his face. Despite his assurances, when didn't trust herself to press down lower, maybe in one if this was something he preferred she'd become more comfortable. Hermione realized the proximity to his lips and her core when she felt his hot breath caress her — she could also feel his nose drag along her clit with his every exhale — and soon she felt another orgasm begin to build within her at the friction. She was facing away from Fred's lower half, bracing her hands upon the arm of the sofa to assist in ensuring herself she wouldn't crush him.

Swiveling her head as best she could around, she caught sight of Fred's hand pumping furiously away. His other hand was constantly roaming over her thighs, up her side to her chest where he'd tweak a nipple and cup her breast, and everywhere else it could reach. He threaded his hand under the skirt, kneading her flesh and sending her nerves into haywire.

The sight of him wanking, he feel of his warm breath upon her core, the continuous friction of his nose against her clit and the sensations his roaming hand was eliciting sent another orgasm crashing over her. Gripping the sofa arm, her thighs clenched and spasmed against Fred's head, gripping him in their vice like grip.

Hermione heard a low rumble and then felt Fred convulse below her. A few moments later, she felt the gentle tap on her leg and she swung off.

Sliding down on the ground with legs of boneless jelly, she lay her head against the couch beside where Fred's lay.

After a beat, Fred cast a scurgify and tucked himself back into his sleep trousers.

"Come up here darling." Fred beckoned and Hermione slithered up and tucked herself in between Fred and the back of the sofa, her head resting in the crook of his arm and one leg swung over his. Their breathing had yet to return to normal, and as Hermione traced along the ribbing on his sleep shirt, Fred began absently playing with her curls.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I've always wanted to try that…"

"That was your first time having someone do that for you?" Hermione asked, surprised.

She felt Fred nod. "I saw it in a muggle magazine few years back. It… did something to me, seeing that man at the mercy of the woman's thighs… the proximity to her core without really touching. The potential for touching and if one were to straddle the other way, the possibility of being sucked off while being smothered by smooth silky thighs."

"How come —"

"It seemed too intimate," Fred answered. "Our previous partners were just sexually driven experiences, nothing deeper. This… position, it tantalized me on a more personal level — the complete submission of it — like how George gets off watching and directing. I wanted to wait…"

"I'm so glad it was me." Hermione sighed, snuggling into his chest.

"It will always be you," whispered Fred as sleep overcame them.


	15. Chapter 15

**Legal: I own nothing other than the plot, and make no money from this story.**

 **0-xxx-000-xxx-0**

 **Chapter 15**

"Bloody rubbish, this whole lot." George said, slamming his notebook shut and chucking the wooden tube he'd been attempting to charm against the wall. Running his hands through hair that hadn't seen the inside of a shower in days, he slumped against the desk in front of him.

He was bone tired, and knew Fred was equally as knackered. They had orders upon orders to fill from the Ministry and their store had never been more successful. They'd also been popping by St. Mungos to visit Katie. Neither were a problem, per say, it just meant they had less time for experimentation, product development, proper testing and research.

And significantly less time to spend with the witch that was currently occupying most of their waking thoughts. The majority of their non-waking thoughts as well.

George's mood was currently all the more desolate due to the fact they hadn't seen their Witch since she'd summoned them to the shack in aroused desperation. Almost two weeks had passed since, with only letters and their coins to sustain them.

They'd all been more knackered than they'd thought — that night — and despite best of intentions, none of them made it past their first round of satiation. After his solo completion while watching Hermione fall apart against Fred's tongue, George had fallen asleep moments later, and was therefore blissfully unaware that Fred fulfilled one of his own biggest fantasies while George took his kip.

Awakening hours later, George's back was stiff from his awkward slump down in the chair and his arse numb from maintaining the same position for an extended period of time. His flaccid cock and bullocks lay shrunken against his thigh; shrunken not just from his previous release but also from the chilly air permeating the room.

Carefully tucking himself back into his trousers following a quick scourgify, he'd glanced toward the couch where his twin and the keeper of his heart lay. Their arms and legs were entwined in such a manner that he knew there'd be stiff joints and numb limbs upon awakening, but their peaceful slumber was endearing.

With war on the horizon, and all of them front line soldiers of the light, there were currently few moments like this to just exist, to just… be. Casting a glance at the antique watch upon his wrist, George had grimaced in regret.

"Wake up sleeping beauty." He had murmured, having bent to whisper and caress Hermione's ear with his tongue. He'd been rewarded with a soft mewl at his touch, and as he'd run a finger down her hairline, tucking an errant curl away from her brow, her eyes had fluttered open and her lips had curled into a sleepy grin.

"Mmmmmm…" Hermione had said, glancing up at George through her lashes. "What time is it?"

"Half four. We arrived little over two hours ago."

She'd groaned, the sound waking Fred, who had squinted up at George.

"Wotcher, George," murmured Fred, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Ready to join in the action?" He'd yawned then, his body betraying his fatigue.

"Alas, not his time Gred. Our witch needs her proper rest, in a proper bed," George had said, "and as much as joining you in rendering her boneless with pleasure would be divine…"

"You are ours to take care of, Hermione." Fred had finished. He'd stroked his hand down her hair, then reached out to cup her face. "We can't let you run yourself into the ground just because we're selfish wankers who want to eek out every last drop of our moments with you."

"But—"

"Hermione, love," said George, then had bent and scooped her up and off the sofa. He'd cradled her in his arms, looking down into Hermione's sleep heavy eyes. "There's no need to rush, any of this. I had a bloody fantastic wank at your arousing display earlier, and judging by how disheveled you and Freddie look, I'd fancy a guess neither of you were left wanting."

Shed shaken her head in agreement, a small smile tilting the corners of her mouth up. She'd glanced shyly up at George.

"I know you're right. About all of it… you're both knackered from all the hours you're putting in at the shop. I know you also need your sleep and just want to protect me by ordering me back before dawn." She'd sighed and snuggled into George's chest, saying, "I'm not sorry I pulled you out of bed, though, even if it was at a ridiculous hour and just so I could get into your pants." She'd looked put out as she grumbled, "though I'm right cross I didn't even have the privilege of that tonight, George!"

"Darling, NEVER apologize for needing us." George had growled, a feral glint in his eyes. He'd licked his lips before bending his head down and capturing her own in a fierce kiss. It had ended as quickly as it had begun, her lips a bright red as he'd withdrawn.

"You can summon us for anything. In or out of our pants or trousers… wanting us at your mercy or you ours… we aren't choosy."

"We will be here if you call upon us to remove a splinter," Fred had said, smiling.

"Or to debate what fruit preserve is the best to serve with rye bread."

"Or to vent about our prat of a brother copying your homework again."

"Or, and especially when, your needs get to be too strong and you need to get a leg over."

"We're your men."

They'd ultimately convinced her to return to the castle to sleep away the remainder of the the night's hours properly. Despite each of them wishing to fulfill the original intent of her summons, the sheer exhaustion that each of them carried like a shawl wrapped round their necks had become too exhausting a mantle to hide.

"It's probably for the best," Hermione had chuckled, having conceded to their arguments. "I'd hate for wands to be crossed or something to be placed in the wrong… spot, due to a knackered brain not functioning at full capacity."

Both Fred and George had shuddered theatrically, a repulsed look upon their identical faces at her words.

As George had said, some things shouldn't be rushed. Their first times with her fell into that category, unequivocally.

They'd taken their leave after watching her slumber-driven decent back down into the shack toward the tunnel leading to the castle, with the promise to contact her in the morning via the coin.

That had been over a fortnight ago, much to the trio's dismay.

Sitting in the shop's workroom, George let out a long, suffering sigh; his body not only overwhelmingly exhausted but now also keyed up from remembering that night. His presently cantankerous disposition wasn't helped by the fact that this ruddy product just wasn't coming together, despite all efforts.

The product he was attempting to refine had been giving him and Fred headaches from the get go. There was something elemental that wasn't translating between conception and implementation. Deconstructed incantations, sketches and notes were scrawled across copious amounts of parchment that littered his desk; nothing seemed to address the temperamental aspect that kept delaying the finalization of their design.

"Forge, shut it down in here, ya?" Said Fred, popping his head into the room cautiously. "I've finished the books for this quarter and made us some nosh and a cuppa upstairs."

Sticking his head in further, his nose scrunched and Fred recoiled slightly. "I'm sorry, brother mine, but you definitely need to shower first. We _finally_ see Hermione tomorrow and it may take you most of that time to scrub the layers of grime off your sorry bod." He threw a tired grin his twin's way, before closing the door behind him.

George dragged his weary body into the lavatory and threw himself into the tub, drawing the curtain around and flicking on the tap for the shower. He sighed when the heat of the water hit his skin, sending goosebumps dancing along his flesh. It had been too long since his body had benefitted from a warm shower, and he felt the water wash away the mounting stressors along with the accumulated grunge.

As he made quick work lathering and rinsing, his mind began to wander to Hermione, replaying a visit almost three weeks prior. As he reminisced, his hand travelled further south, and despite his utter exhaustion, he indulged in a thoroughly satisfying wank.

" _Sorry I'm late! I got delayed leaving the common room and couldn't extricate myself without looking like a right git!" Hermione said, her face flushed with annoyance and exertion. It appeared to George as if she'd run the entire way down from the tower to the shack._

" _S'alright love," said George, closing the book he'd been perusing and unfolding himself from the sofa. He looked bemusedly upon her dishevelment, and felt his heart began to race as warmth spread through his veins._

' _Mine… Fred's…Ours…' he thought, proudly._

" _It's just me tonight. There were some more hiccups with the new line for the Ministry, and rather than both of us cancelling — again — he took one for the team and stayed behind to iron them out."_

 _George could see crinkles of disappointment form at the corner of her eyes as he spoke. It was a testament to how far they'd come in their relationship that he knew her disappointment stemmed solely from missing Fred as a person. Not, as earlier insecurity would have had him believe, that she was disappointed to be alone with only him; with George as Fred's placeholder._

 _For her own part, he knew her now to be secure in the knowledge that they both indeed wanted her, were in this together and had no intention of bowing out or losing interest. They'd done their best to convey that to her in every interaction and means possible._

" _Such a noble sacrifice… We'll have to make sure he's thoroughly compensated," Hermione said with a wink and a smirk, coming to rest in front of him. Sliding her hands up George's chest, she linked her hands behind his neck and tilted her head._

 _He dropped a kiss upon her waiting lips, a mere brush that ended up sparking embers that took a solid ten minutes to extinguish. Coming up for air, George took stock of the fact they'd made it from just inside the door to one of the arm chairs, and his hand was firmly gripping Hermione's arse as she straddled him._

" _I forget myself with you Granger," said George, his voice husky and breathless from the wonderful welcome snog. His hand squeezed her arse and he felt her slide in closer, her breasts brushing against his chest. "Are you sure you're not part veela?"_

 _Hermione snorted, "Oh yes, quite sure." She said, but the smile that danced across her lips and flashed her perfectly aligned teeth showed her pleasure at his words._

 _Still straddling him, Hermione leaned back and asked, "Do you want to run through what you've tried so far with the new products? Maybe an extra mind will help…"_

" _We could…"he said, leaning forward and nipping at her bottom lip. "Or we could continue with what we've been engaging in the past ten minutes or so."_

 _He rolled his hips and was rewarded with her groan of pleasure._

" _Soon…"she said. Extricating herself from his lap, Hermione walked over to the sofa and perched herself in the middle._

" _Let's make a game of it." She said, eyes twinkling._

 _George leaned forward, licking his lips in anticipation._

" _I'm intrigued, Granger. What sort of game has your minxy mind deduced will help sort our production issues?"_

" _One with… motivation." Purred Hermione._

 _George swallowed, hard. She'd exchanged heated snogs with both him and Fred, and they had, once or twice, snuck in a grope._

 _But that was as far as their explorations had taken them._

 _The way she was looking at him, her eyes smoldering into his…_

 _He felt his body react at the heat, at the focus, of her gaze. He knew tonight they'd be wading into waters currently uncharted between them._

" _Alright Granger, I'm in. I assume there are rules?" He said, arousal making his voice slightly husky. He saw her give a tiny shudder._

" _Of course." She smirked, and he felt his cock give a twitch. "First, the basic logistics. The what's, for whom, quantities and the magics used, and what the hiccup was. Lay the groundwork to begin. Then, we're going to bounce around ideas, and for every idea or solution that is viable, I will remove an article of clothing."_

 _George's mouth went dry._

" _And is this a watching only game, or is… interaction, encouraged?" He asked. He was a fan of games, especially games with both rules and enticements._

" _Watching for the majority, lest we get distracted. You do prefer to watch, if I'm correct," she murmured, eyebrow raised, and he felt himself grow harder, if that was even possible. "Once the hiccup issue has been solved to the best of our ability for the evening, the grand prize will indeed be of an interactive variety."_

" _Your terms sound fair and reasonable." Said George, barely restraining himself from possessing her mouth and pressing her back into the sofa in approval of her intoxicating proposal. She crooked a smile, and it was only then — the tiny wobble at the corner of her mouth betrayed her — that he realized she was nervous despite the veneer of confidence._

 _Moving so that he was kneeling in front of her on the plush rug, he gripped her hands within his own. Even kneeling, his eyes were on level with her own. His thumb rubbed circles over her knuckles._

" _Hermione, there is no expectation… for any of this. Your help on our business, you baring yourself… I, we, never want you to feel you need to prove or be something for us. We value all of you, and whatever you give us we cherish and hold in the highest honor."_

 _She let out a sigh, and leaned her forehead against his._

" _You read me so well… I just… just don't want to let you down. Smartest witch and all that rubbish. You're so busy, and I'm so bloody proud but I miss you, both of you… If I can help…"_

" _Oh sweetheart, you help us more than you possibly realize. You make us whole." George cupped her face in his hands and placed a gentle kiss upon her lips._

 _Deciding he needed to get her back from the edge of self doubt and rekindle the teasing mood of moments before, he quirked an eyebrow and, dropping her hands and instead running his hands up the length of her thighs said, "now, Ms. Granger. I do believe you've asked for some information…"_

"Oy, George, you drown in there?!" Yelled Fred, pounding on the door. "Soup's getting cold."

George, having just cum from the memory of Hermione's lips wrapped around his cock as she knelt before him topless — his reward for a fantastically thorough brainstorm session — found his interlude abruptly interrupted. His body was still shuddering with pleasure though he could feel his pulse begin to slow as he let his forehead rest against the tile wall in blissful surrender.

' _Bloody hell! Thank Merlin Fred hadn't shouted a minute sooner…'_ he thought.

"Bugger off Freddie!" He growled, "I'll be out soon enough. Just finishing off here."

' _In more ways than one_ ,' he thought, giving his cock a final stroke before quickly soaping and rinsing his body. He heard Fred's laughter and an utterance of ' _I bet you are!_ ' disappear toward the direction of their kitchen as he turned off the water.

Stepping out of the tub and into the steam that drifted around the room of the lavatory, George gave a contented sigh.

"Finish up ok in there?" smirked Fred as George, once dressed, joined him in the kitchen.

"Quite," said George, flashing a roguish grin that had his twin laughing.

"Thin walls and enchanted coins make for limited privacy." Chuckled Fred knowingly, sitting down at the small square table they used for dining when in their flat.

"Just remembering how talented a tongue our little witch possesses," winked George as he joined his brother for warm soup and now tepid tea.

"Lucky bastard," laughed Fred. "Though I haven't had that pleasure as yet, I for one, can't wait to sample the taste of her again. To make her thrash and scream… have her squeeze my head with her thighs as she comes undone."

"And I can't wait to watch her come undone…" said George, remembering all to well the visual of Hermione orgasming. It was one of his favorite memories. George was staring blankly toward the wall with a lopsided grin before giving his head a shake and delving into his food with gusto.

"Thanks for making supper," said George.

"You get clean up." Smirked Fred. "I gemino'd all the dirty dishes in revenge for using up all the hot water."

George opened his mouth to laugh at Fred's naivety when Fred said, "And I spelled them to temporarily repel magic. For two days. So you'll need to wash them all by hand."

"Wanker." Laughed George.

Their mother had balked when they'd originally moved out, two bachelors on their own with firm instructions that their flat was off limits to her meddling. Her worries they would starve or be lost under piles of rubbish and soiled laundry were unfulfilled. For all the twins appeared oblivious they were in fact quite adept at house charms and, as their date had revealed to Hermione, also incredibly proficient around a stove.

They also took great pleasure in taking the piss out of the other, and forcing them to do chores the muggle way. As such, they each possessed a wide array of creative talents in ways to effectively clean a household by hand. For the most part, though, they were so busy downstairs in the shop or with Hermione that their flat had a very minimalistic, barely-lived-in atmosphere and appearance, save for the various take-away containers they had Verity fetch from muggle London when their work ran late.

"Do you think she's close to cracking the cube?" Asked Fred as he took a sip of tea.

"She hasn't mentioned it." Replied George. "I wonder if we miscalculated…"

Fred's eyes narrowed fractionally in apparent contemplation before he shook his head, no. "No, we don't want to rush her. It's a good thing the cube doesn't play to her strengths. Otherwise, it might end up revealing it's treasure too soon. By the time she opens it, I believe the timing of the reveal will be just right."

Fred and George exchanged a glance, communicating without words how much they were anticipating the reveal, and Hermione's reaction to what they'd hidden inside.


End file.
